Bookwitch

And don’t even get me started on Christmas Day. That deep seated sense of insecurity, has me look closely at my statistics. Often. Saturdays make for the Alp look. During the week, when you all should be working, you read this blog. On Sundays, apart from yesterday, you also often read the witch’s scribbles. But what do you do on a Saturday? Shop? Clean? Talk to people?

I’m thinking of letting myself have a day off every week. Looks like it should be Saturdays. And maybe Christmas Day. Nearly all of you appeared to be doing other things that day. On the other hand; were it not for the Saturday dips, the stats wouldn’t display that encouraging rise during the week.

This would be a good time to ask if in the rest of the world you also have a “different” kind of weekend this weekend? In England we have Bank Holiday Monday today, which may well account for the sluggishness yesterday. And last Thursday and Friday I had to allow for the fact that many sensible countries had not just the First of May to consider, but it was Ascension Day as well. Followed by a Friday when no sensible person would work. If you knew how many times over the years in exile, that I have tried phoning businesses in the old country on a public holiday, forgetting, because the English don’t have it. Good thing blushes can’t yet be seen over the phone.

Time to walk Daughter to the “new pencil case” shop. Progress is when you can shop till you drop on Bank Holidays.

I know this happens all the time, but I do find weird coincidences rather fun. And intriguing.

Being a great fan of Gillian Cross, I would always be interested in a new book of hers. Some years ago (that fateful autumn of 2001) I really liked the sound of her book Calling a Dead Man.

It’s about a girl whose adult brother goes to Siberia on a job. He promptly disappears, and that would seem to be that. But his fiancée refuses to leave things alone, and taking his sister with her, goes off to Russia.

I don’t want to give anything away, but it does get exciting.

That Christmas I gave the book to a young relative who’s a great reader, and one for whom it’s hard to find new books. Luckily Calling a Dead Man was new to her, and I enjoyed watching her finish it in one sitting.

The coincidence? That was the autumn the Resident IT Consultant was somewhat less resident. He was sent to Russia to work. And that included trips to Siberia.

I remember my first. It was a few years ago, over Christmas. Son was still at secondary school and an active library helper. So was his best friend. The latest Alex Rider was just out and the library had one copy. They couldn’t agree who should go first, so the librarian decided. The friend got the Horowitz.

To ward off the inevitable explosion she handed Son a proof provided by Simply Books, who needed a book review. It was Hoot by Carl Hiaasen. Needless to say the whole family read it and couldn’t quite get over the excitement of reading a proof. We had never heard of Hiaasen either, so that was an eye opener. Thoroughly enjoyed Hoot, and these days I like to return to Hiaasen and his mad world from time to time.

Some time later when the Resident IT Consultant was in the bookshop (strange place to find him…) he was sent home with a pile of proofs that they didn’t know what to do with.

And now we see so many of them that we have lost that first feeling of excitement. Or not, in a way. Because it’s still very special to have a new book, and particularly so if we expect it to be good. It’s just not the first time.

Didn’t read all the books I’d hoped for. For a pessimist I’m rather optimistic when it comes to planning reading. I’d hoped for some crime, but that’s sitting next in line.

Son gave the Resident IT Consultant a copy of The Hogfather and proceeded to read it himself, first. R IT C has only just laid hands on his own book to read. On the other hand, he in turn attempted to claim ownership of the old atlas he found lying around, which had been Son’s present.

I don’t know why we steal so much here.

The Visiting Grandmother was found dipping into Trigonometric Delights, and I don’t even want to think about that. She also read last year’s Costa winner, Linda Newbery’s Set in Stone.

Daughter has done what she does best; re-read old favourites.

The bookwitch household is not known for its tantalising social life. We are, quite frankly, very boring.

One New Year’s Eve, I think thirteen years ago, I recorded a Sesame Street New Year special, which for some reason was broadcast in the middle of the day. This was at a time when Son and Daughter and I watched Sesame Street religiously, every weekday with our lunch. I thought it was a lovely programme, so kept the video (fairly illegal, I believe), and most New Year’s Eves we watch it. I even try to time the start so we can have twelve o’clock coincide with the ball falling off Wolfgang’s nose.

So, that’s what we’ve just done, for the umpteenth time. Being a Cookie Monster fan, I love it when he eats the credits.

Hope we will all have a good 2008!

I don’t know about the rest of you, but I really enjoyed last night’s The Shadow in the North on BBC. It was as perfectly adapted as I imagine it’s possible to do, given the length of the film allowed. I felt it was all there, and no glaringly obvious things missing. And all the actors were perfect, which I hardly ever find with book dramatisations.

My blog in the Guardian’s TV section today says pretty much the same thing, but do have a look anyway.

Three years ago as the tsunami news spread, I was reading a suitable (or perhaps unsuitable) book. With only days to go before the Whitbread announcement, I’d had this urge to read Geraldine McCaughrean’s Not the End of the World. I am currently, and I know, very belatedly, reading Elizabeth Laird’s Crusade.

We’ll see on Thursday.

Have just watched the programme about J K Rowling on television. The Observer thought it a wasted effort, or some such thing, so I was prepared to hate and sneer. No need. I thought it was a very good portrait of J K.

With minutes to go, it’s rather late to suggest you all watch The Shadow in the North, but I’m sure you’re all intending to anyway.

Rather than comment on the comments about hardbacks, I’ll follow up on Adele’s and Peter’s thoughts.

Adele first - I suppose Alex Rider fans are so desperate that they will buy the hardback, and Anthony gets richer still. (Saw his house in a house magazine a while back, and very nice it is too.) From a green point of view I feel paperbacks are better, and they allow for more books on my shelves, because they are smaller.

However, when School Friend’s Daughter E came to live with us one autumn some years ago, she was shocked that so many of the new books here were paperback only. E thought it looked cheap and not very proper, and that was coming from a 19-year-old, whom I’d expect to want to live simply and cheaply.

The story of me and Artemis Fowl - No, Peter, Artemis came as hardback first. I’d kept seeing the ads for Artemis long before the book arrived and thought to myself I’d never buy anything that sounded that stupid. And certainly not in hardback, as I am (was) an economical sort of person. But Christmas came; the witch was standing in a bookshop, and before she knew what was happening, Artemis in hardback came home for Christmas.

And the next Christmas it was more a case of Artemis having turned into a Christmas tradition, and the hardback looked rather nice, after all. After the first Artemis I wasn’t even sure I liked him (which apparently is exactly the reaction Eoin had hoped for) so I can’t account for my reasoning here. And here we are with a very nicely matching shelf, full of hardback Eoin Colfer books. I’ve probably paid for his house conversion, or whatever he’s been up to, too.

I think Picador’s idea of paperbacks is excellent. The only books that need to be hardback are those were the book would collapse if not firm. Cleopatra’s jewels, for instance.

Did I ever tell you about my pen friends? I’ll skip the story about the two hundred letters from Japan, because that one always sends the Resident IT Consultant to sleep. But as a teenager I had lots of other friends all over the world, if only briefly for most of them. It’s a case of finding someone who speaks the same language as you do, and I don’t mean English.

I won’t forget the Burmese young man in Australia, who inquired as Christmas approached, whether in Sweden we had snow the whole year round, just like they do in England. The first part I’d heard before and I don’t mind people’s lack of knowledge. It was the snowy England that got to me. But I suppose he’d been looking at too many idyllic Christmas cards.

As a newcomer to England I believed the natives might find my traditions interesting, but it didn’t take long for me to realise that they didn’t. I’m sorry for any boredom caused before this enlightened state was reached. There’s an awful lot I don’t know about what others do, either. I didn’t know about displaying the Christmas cards as they arrive. In Sweden you just bung them in a pile somewhere. And most years I get to Easter Sunday and then I get the hot cross buns out, only to be informed they are two days overdue.

What this rambling account of my misspent past is trying to do, is to say that a book or two on traditions in different places is not a bad thing. I’ve just been looking through Festivals Together, A guide to multi-cultural celebration. It deals with traditions in several different religions for various times of the year. There are explanations, stories, recipes and much more. (I’ve always been intrigued to find that our Indian food favourites are Diwali specials.) Haven’t seen anything about snow covering England, but understanding that I’m a monkey to the Chinese is very useful. The witch family consists of three monkeys and a snake.

Another book Martin at Hawthorn Press sent me is Gail Johnson’s African and Caribbean Celebrations , which as the title suggests deals with one cultural background, so can cover more detail. It, too, has recipes, stories and lots of information on a great many things. Benjamin Zephaniah seems to be a fan of the book.

These two books should be good both for school use and for individuals who need to widen their horizons a bit. I once went to evening classes with a retired teacher, who mused a lot about what counts as English culture. She felt it was Shakespeare and stuff like that. I felt it was more the question of whether or not you take your shoes off when entering someone’s home. Many countries feel Hamlet is theirs, too, if only in translation. The business of making a fool of yourself in people’s houses is a much more individual cultural issue.

Bored? Try a board game. There is a new one out to coincide with The Golden Compass film, naturally. We tried it last night and it seems to work. Can’t claim to have understood it all after so little time, but I think even I could get more of a hang of it after a few more test runs.

It’s called The Board Game of The Golden Compass, not surprisingly, and is made by Sophisticated Games. What I liked most was the total absence of dice. I don’t know why all games have to have them. Here we had an arrow to twirl round the alethiometer. There are many things to keep in the air at one time, but once you work out what is most advantageous to do, it should be possible to plot to win. As usual the Resident IT Consultant won, so we’ll ban him from further playing.