Escapism in the form of Books

Sometimes you can have too much of the real world, of whats happening, and an overload of stuff can be detrimental. This isn’t new. Even during a pandemic, I feel escapism is a wonderful thing that should be encouraged.

At the beginning of the year, I purchased a poster. I used to have my bedroom adorned in posters of my favourite bands, but this one was books to read before you die. As many readers may know, one can become routine in their reading choices of books, while many wonderful ones outside of that scope can be lost. My slump followed the completion of Tolstoy’s War and Peace, so clearly after such a chore one needs a pallet cleanser. With this poster, and a number of other means of discovery, the following books fell under my radar.

1. Small Island by Andrea Levy – I watched the play of Small Island as part of National Theatre Live’s free streaming of past productions on YouTube, and instantly brought the book afterwards. While I knew the plot from the play, maintaining all the important parts key to the plot, the novel offers a glimpse into another time from four perspectives instead of the play’s principle three – Hortense, Gilbert and Queenie. The novel also includes Bernard’s rather reserved perspective, a foil to his wife’s outgoing and accepting attitudes, particularly in relation to race. As the character’s interact, it feels as though each is a characterisation of ideas and attitudes of the time; idealisation of England and bitterness towards a country once dreamed to be so full of hope in Hortense and Gilbert, and the two sides of racism during the time; Queenie, a open hearted and kind character at heart, makes errors in her interactions with her Jamaican lodgers, but each is innocent and well meaning. In contrast, Bernard presents the deep seated racism of the time, with little room for acceptance left. This story presents a real world view of ‘the grass isn’t always greener’ (my interpretation), and while the subject matter may deal with heavy and very relavent issues of today, it is nonetheless a story of perseverance, and making the best of what you have.
2. The Inimitable Jeeves by P G Woodhouse – there’s something delightful about these stories – the jaunty language, the sitcom type plots that always turn out alright in the end thanks to the genius that is Jeeves. Bertie is the perfect foil for the butler, who’s naive and well mannered way of speaking makes him the typical idle gentleman, who’s time is spent helping his friends out of sticky situations, and occasionally upsetting Jeeves by growing a moustache.
3. Les Miserable by Victor Hugo – this is probably not a very popular book to suggest, given the absolute chore this book is. I haven’t finished reading it myself yet, but I am speaking to the readers who have a bit of a bucket list, or who want to read something for the simple pleasure of bragging that they have read it. I get it. But really, this is probably the best time to tackle it. I’m personally listening to it on Audible (Unabridged, so it does count) and I listen to it during work, taking the dog a walk and while I’m knitting (I love Audible). It’s subject matter can be grim and depressing, because that is the book. If you’ve seen the play or the movies (or the TV adaptions) then you know the basics. There’s a lot of babbling and philosophising, in Usual Victor Hugo fashion, but at least you can come out and say you’ve read it.

Honorable mentions

1. Matilda by Roald Dahl – a wonderful short read with that distinctive Dahl humour.
2. Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden – a story of a very different culture, informative as it is immersive with its rich descriptions.
3. Uncle Tom’s Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe – One of the few books to make me tear up. The acts of kindness contrast against the acts of cruelty, portraying slavery in its multifaceted reality, from the absolute inhuman treatment to those who saw the men and women they brought as part of their family, knowing that a worse fate awaited elsewhere.
4. Shakespeare comedies – I never disliked Shakespeare, but English at school and English Literature at college developed in me a bit of reluctance to read him in my own time. Once again, National Theatre Live came into play (pun not intended but a happy accident nonetheless), and I began reading the plays a couple of days before showing to get acquainted. It’s a case of (sometimes), the more you read, the more used to the language you get.