A Call for Bibliotherapy Recommendations: What books have helped you?

Dear Lovely Readers, both new and old,

I'm currently revising my "A-Z Bibliotherapy Recommendations" page by creating new sections and adding new books. I think it will prove useful (both for myself and others!) to have everything in one place and organised in an easy-access way.

I've been sorting through my multiple bookshelves (and various escapee books) to do this, although I'd like to enlist your help too.

If you have any recommendations of books that have helped you in the past, or know of books that may help others, I'd love to hear from you in the comments box. I'm currently using the following categories, although you can certainly suggest your own:

• Accepting yourself
• Anxiety
• Challenging childhoods
• Depression
• Disability
• Exclusion
• Fear of death
• Heartbreak and questions of the heart
• Home sickness
• Illness
• Knowing yourself
• Low self-esteem
• Loss
• Need for inspiration
• Need for solitude
• PTSD
• Perfectionism
• Persevering through hardship
• Search for beauty and meaning
• Understanding suicide
• Unrequited love

If you can come up with any books to add these categories, or a new one of your choosing, I will make sure to link the recommendation to your blog (if you have one). It will be even better if you have written a post on the book you mention, although this isn't essential.

The book can be fiction or non-fiction, or even a children's book. If the book contains a valuable message, something that people can relate to, or is simply written beautifully, it's perfect.

I look forward to hearing from you!

Lucy

A May Update: Gatsby's Ending Quote, My New Kindle, Reading Plans

The Kindle 'X-Ray' feature, here showing
character appearances in Great
Expectations

My second year of university is officially over. Exams are done, keys returned, and I'm back at home ready to commence a summer of reading, blogging, and general lounging about. There's only one thing missing: sun. Reading can quite easily be an indoor activity, but there are few things that can beat sitting on a bench with a few cushions and a newfound novel. Clearly I'll have to wait a little longer for this.

For now, I'm making do with cups of Starbucks's Vanilla Rooibos blend and new books that I have accumulated over the last few months. Also, I've acquired a new Kindle. As some of you may know, my original Kindle didn't make the journey back from my Easter skiing holiday due to cabin pressure causing the screen to smash internally (I had absolutely no idea this could happen). However, my lovely boyfriend gave me a Kindle Paperwhite 3G for my birthday (last Saturday), and I'm now a very happy lady. I love the 'X-Ray' function it has, which allows you to see how frequently a certain character or phrase appears in a novel or a single chapter. I also like seeing the estimation of how long it will take me to finish reading a book. I can fairly say that it brings out my nerdy side.

I also went to see The Great Gasby for my birthday. I had almost forgotten how disturbing the plot is, but the 3D filming truly maximised the shock of the various plot turns. Luhrmann also makes use of some of the novel's most beautiful lines, including one that I feel surpasses so many other quotes in literature:

Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter—tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . . . And then one fine morning— So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

"Gatsby believed in the green light..." Image from Tumblr.

Anyway, here a few lists to update you with my current reading situation and plans.

Recently enjoyed:

• The Countesse of Montgomery's Urania - Lady Mary Wroth: I reread (most of) this for my Renaissance literature module. Wroth is still a highly underrated author, although she is gaining more ground. Ben Jonson once wrote that Wroth's poetry made him "a better lover, and much better poet", which must mean something. 
• Shakespeare's Sonnets: Again, this was for my aforementioned English exam. I'm glad to say that the Sonnets mean so much more to me after another reading, and that the further study has enabled me to find my position in relation to them.
•  The Enchanted April - Elizabeth von Arnim: Von Arnim is frequently commended, discussed, and recommended in the literary blogosphere. I certainly think this is for good reason - she is such a skilful writer of fiction. I'm sure I'll return to this novel for many years to come. The ending slightly irritates me for trivial reasons, but it's very close to being a perfect novel by my standards.

The forget-me-nots and yellow tulips of the university
gardens bringing vibrancy to a dull day. Von Arnim would
approve.

Currently reading:

• Master and Man and Other Stories - Leo Tolstoy
• Los enamoramientos (The Infatuations) - Javier Marías: This is my first novel by Javier Marías, and I'm so far enjoying it. I'm glad I chose to read the original Spanish, not simply because the Kindle edition was £7 cheaper than the English translation!
• El cuaderno verde del Che (Che Guevara's Green Notebook): This is part of one of my projects set for the summer: to translate more of León Felipe's poetry from Spanish to English. I've begun posting my translations here, rather than cluttering up this blog, although I'm planning to soon write a post on the friendship between Che Guevara and Felipe on this blog.

Up next:

• A Calendar of Wisdom: Daily Thoughts to Nourish the Soul - Leo Tolstoy: I mentioned this in my last "update" post, although I am still yet to read it. This must change. 
• Regeneration - Pat Barker: I enjoyed reading Toby's Room in March, and I'd like to make time to read the prequel. Any novel that features Wilfred Owen and Siegfried Sassoon as characters appeals to me. 
• Atlas Shrugged - Ayn Rand: My boyfriend bought me this for my birthday, after countless references to the novel in Mad Men. I don't know too much about the novel, although I can tell by the length that it will keep me busy.  

I'm sure that I'll soon be sharing my thoughts on some of the books I've mentioned here, with or without sunny weather. I'll also keep Goodreads and Twitter updated with progress that I make!

Bibliotherapy and TV's Mad Men: Frank O'Hara's Meditations in an Emergency

After a rather delayed start, I've recently started watching the second series of Mad Men, and I'm enjoying all the literary mentions that the show entails (and everything else about it!) In particular, the reference to Frank O'Hara in Episode 1 of the second series prompted me to write. O'Hara is not a poet that I know well, although I love the passage that Don Draper reads out in this episode:

Now I am quietly waiting for
the catastrophe of my personality
to seem beautiful again,
and interesting, and modern.

The country is grey and
brown and white in trees,
snows and skies of laughter
always diminishing, less funny
not just darker, not just grey. 

It may be the coldest day of
the year, what does he think of
that? I mean, what do I? And if I do,
perhaps I am myself again.

This is from 'Mayakovsky', as found in O'Hara's Meditations in an Emergency. Don sees another man reading this poetry collection in a bar, and inquires if it is good. The man replies that Don "would not enjoy it", which inevitably influences Don to read it for himself and find out. Don appears to see something of himself in the book, but he is also reminded of somebody else. He writes a dedication to this person in the book's inlay pages, and walks to the postbox to send it. Meanwhile, we hear Don's recital of the verses above (you can watch this scene here on Youtube).

While the scene is so beautiful produced, I think this poem is a fitting choice for Mad Men for various reasons. There's the obvious mention of modernity that reflects the nature of the show, but there's also the connection between Don's personal struggle and that of the poem's speaker. Don is struggling with issues that regard family, love, and identity, and we can only wait for the inevitable culmination of his anxiety and anguish. In other words, for the "catastrophe of [his] personality". Perhaps Don's reading of this poem marks the peak of his troubles, and everything will soon be "beautiful again", although I'm not convinced. I'm sure those of you who also watch Mad Men will have more insight.

I'd like to memorise the first stanza of the passage that I have quoted above: I think it would help me during difficult moments, and reminds me of the proverb "this too shall pass". The second stanza, in its description of laughter and beauty "always diminishing" is such an accurate depiction of depression, and I'm sure many can find familiarity in it. As for the final stanza, I'm sure we can all relate to the confusion of who we are and what we think. This is a reading very centred on bibliotherapy, but I think the inclusion of the poem in Mad Men has a similar purpose. Don, having felt confused and divided for some time, finds reassurance in a poem.

After some research, I've found that O'Hara's book reappears at various points throughout the second series. I'm looking forward to this, and I'll be sure to post any other reflections I have. Why didn't I start watching Mad Men before?!

As always, do comment if you have anything to agree with, disagree with, or add. Mad Men appreciation will certainly be accepted in the comments box. Also, I always enjoy hearing about poems and books that have helped you through similar situations.

If you liked this post, do check out Angeliki's post "What do Mad Men read" over at Reading Psychology. If you're anything like me, it'll fill up your to-read list!

Don Draper reading Frank O'Hara's Meditations in an Emergency.

Shakespeare's Sonnet 55: Keep Calm and Memorise Poetry (it may help you more than you think)

Michael Schoenfeldt's Companion to the Sonnets, 
Don Paterson's "New Commentary" and my lovely 
edition of the Sonnets (find the link at the bottom of
 this post).

I'm spending this week surrounded by books and students in various stages of panic. Exam season is in full swing, and I'm aware of few people who feel truly prepared for it. However, I'm choosing to approach my literature exams with a calm face and my interest in reading at the forefront of my mind. From experience, I've come to realise that this is a well-founded decision: it eliminates unnecessary stress, and reminds me why I really am choosing to put myself through long, dull hours in quiet rooms. As far as it is possible, I'm making the revision process enjoyable.

As a part of this, I have been reflecting on what the texts I'm studying mean to me, rather than one hundred other critics. I've most enjoyed studying and thinking about Shakespeare's Sonnet 55, which is what I'll discuss in this post. If you're unfamiliar with the poem, have a skim over this. Below I'll briefly discuss it, and outline my thoughts. 

Sonnet 55 - William Shakespeare

Not marble nor the gilded monuments
Of princes shall outlive this pow'rful rhyme,
But you shall shine more bright in these conténts
Than unswept stone, besmeared with sluttish time.
When wasteful war shall statues overturn,
And broils root out the work of masonry,
Nor Mars his sword, nor war’s quick fire, shall burn
The living record of your memory.
'Gainst death and all oblivious enmity
Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room
Even in the eyes of all posterity
That wear this world out to the ending doom.
  So till the judgment that yourself arise,
  You live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes.

In this relatively popular sonnet, Shakespeare boasts about the longevity of his verse, something that I would not attempt to argue with even in my most critical of moments. However, as Don Paterson mentions in his lovely "New Commentary" on Shakespeare's Sonnets, Shakespeare has effectively failed to do what he's aiming for. His poems have survived, and their legacy in modern culture will not diminish any time soon, yet we cannot conjure the idealised "Young Man" of the Sonnets immediately to our mind. His image does not exactly "live in this": critics do not have an accurate recreation of his image, or even know his true identity. 

Yet I agree with Don Paterson that Shakespeare is doing something else in this sonnet. I will make a judgement here that you may dispute, and you can of course give your interpretation in the comment box. To me, Shakespeare is saying the following: even when everything material is destroyed, when buildings have fallen and war has burned through cities, I will still remember this "pow'rful rhyme", and it will perhaps mean more to me, or "shine more bright", because of the external destruction.

In an old post I wrote on memorising poetry, I wrote about my first university English lecture, in which I was told - alongside a theatre of undergraduates that were either shaking or hungover - that memorising poetry was one of the best things you could do in your youth. Memorised poems can stay with you when everything else has gone, and, in the words of my lecturer, they will even get you through a prison sentence. Studies also show that a significant number of late stage dementia patients remember words and lines from poetry they learned in childhood.

Although in a more eloquent way, I think this is what Shakespeare is suggesting in Sonnet 55. Humans are skilled at destroying everything beautiful around us, especially with "war's quick fire, but the human mind can vividly immortalise, recreate and remember. Note that in the second line Shakespeare uses "rhyme" rather than "verse". Perhaps this is because rhyme is one best ways to commit something to memory: we learn through musicality, euphony and links. 

Think of the poems that you can recall from memory: are there any? If not, consider finding some lines to commit to memory, ideally from a poem that really resounds with your experience, desires and character. It may come in more useful than you imagine. 

Here's an Amazon link to my edition of the Sonnets, as shown in the top-right photo and below, for if you love it as much as I do.

Bibliotherapy for Anxiety: Active, Beautiful, and Calming Fictional Books

Personally, I find location to be most complementary to bibliotherapy.
Malawi. My image. 

I'd like to emphasise now that literature is not a replacement for therapy or medication when anxiety is severe. Nothing replaces getting help, although I believe reading can complement recovery and maintain wellbeing.

In February I posted about using bibliotherapy for depression and low mood, and I recently published a similar article on HubPages. As a result, I've been thinking about books that can benefit anxiety too, and I've come up with a few suggestions.

I've been reading a lot of philosophy in the last year or so, and it's helped me to view anxiety as something exciting that motivates me, rather than something negative that threatens me (see my posts on Marcus Aurelius and Stoicism). However, I know that if I sat still and contemplated my nerves or my situation, I would not be so calm. My worries would escalate, I'd consider worst-case scenarios, and I'd experience physical symptoms. In this post I'll outline how literature helps me with anxiety, and list some useful books.

I'd like to categorise such literature into three categories:

1. Books that involve the mind
2. Books that are inherently beautiful to read
3. On a similar note, books that calm the mind.

Firstly, some people benefit from reading fast-paced and active books when they're feeling nervous. This may be an action novel or thriller, for instance Robert Ludlum's Bourne Series. I've also heard good things about The Walking Dead graphic novel series. The declaration on the blurb of the first book, Days Gone Bye, even appealed to me (I usually dislike anything zombie-related): "In a world ruled by the dead, we are forced to finally begin living."

Image from http://25.media.tumblr.com/

Comparable books in this first category are those that involve the mind. Marcel Proust and Henry James, for instance, are complex writers that demand your full attention. The writing is rich, layered, and often there is a huge amount of it. Perhaps it's significant that in Haruki Murakami's 1Q84, Aomame reads Proust's In Search of Lost Time during her high-risk time of hiding. If you like Proust, I would also recommend Alain de Botton's How Proust Can Change Your Life, a book that blends literary fiction and self-help.

Next are the beautifully written books. It's very clichéd to say this, I realise, but I feel it's the most appropriate word to use. I'd include Speak, Memory by Vladimir Nabokov, F. Scott Fitzgerald's Flappers and Philosophers, and Milan Kundera's The Unbearable Lightness of Being. This category contains the books with the power to enchant and enrich, turning your attention away from your anxiety. In this category I would also include Pierre's lofty reflections on life and nature in War & Peace. It's impossible to encapsulate the beauty of War & Peace in one sentence, but this passage (that I've discussed in this post) almost does it justice:

But this bright comet with its long, shiny tail held no fears for Pierre. Quite the reverse: Pierre's eyes glittered with tears of rapture as he gazed up at this radiant star, which must have traced its parabola through infinite space at speeds unimaginable and now suddenly seemed to have picked its spot in the black sky and impaled itself like an arrow piercing the earth, and stuck there, with its strong upthrusting tail and its brilliant display of whiteness amidst the infinity of scintillating stars. 

For the final category - calming literature - it is perhaps easiest to write about poetry. Above all, I find poetry to be most calming when it discusses particularly tranquil places. I imagine this is because they provide a mental escape, or alternatively bring up fond memories. My favourite examples include Edward Thomas' lines on the English countryside (see Adlestrop), Wordsworth's depictions of the relaxing act of walking, and Yeats' description of calming settings in The Lake Isle of Innisfree:

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, 

And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made: 

Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee; 

And live alone in the bee-loud glade. 

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, 

Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings; 

There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, 

And evening full of the linnet's wings. 

I will arise and go now, for always night and day

 I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore; 

While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey, 

I hear it in the deep heart's core.

After quoting this poem, it is fitting to emphasise not merely what you read, but where you read it. The Enchanted April by Elizabeth von Arnim is both beautiful and calming, but I find it much more pleasant to read outdoors than inside. Others may feel it to be a welcome antidote to the Underground or bus journeys, however. Find what place works best for your reading, be it a garden, park, mode of public transport, an office or bedroom. Then make sure to visit that place, focusing on the book at hand and your surroundings, rather than your worries.

My Top Five Books for Relieving Anxiety:

1. Selected Poems - Edward Thomas
2. The Enchanted April - Elizabeth von Arnim
3. Love in the Time of Cholera - Gabriel García Márquez
4. The House of the Sprits - Isabel Allende
5. Speak, Memory - Vladimir Nabokov

Although these books work for me, they may not necessarily suit you. Let me know in the comment box if you come across any other useful books!

“Man is not worried by real problems so much as by his imagined anxieties about real problems” ~ Epictetus

Antiquity and Preserved Life (and Jewellery) in The British Museum's "Life and Death in Pompeii and Herculaneum" Exhibition

This quote by Tennyson, found on the floor of the British
 Museum, is perhaps appropriate. The image is my own.

Last Saturday my boyfriend and I visited the British Museum's "Life and Death in Pompeii and Herculaneum" exhibit. This was partly prompted by our visit to Italy last summer, in which we visited Pompeii - and greatly enjoyed it - but not the Herculaneum. While the museum trip was filled with frequent "we've seen that" exclamations, it also allowed us to fully appreciate what we had seen at Pompeii, and learn a bit about the Herculaneum. 

As indicated in its title, the exhibition creates a dichotomy between life before Pompeii and the death that followed. You walk into the exhibition and read about the extent of the catastrophe, and then watch an interesting video about the causes of the eruption. You're also shown the cast of the dog (probably a guard dog), writhing on its back, that was preserved from Pompeii. 

But then the exhibit becomes calmer: we see the details of a villa, including its preserved foodstuffs (including figs), frescoes, household objects (storage units, even a cradle), and decorative pieces. Needless to say, the majority of decorative pieces - and, truthfully, practical objects too - boast phallic design features, which cause either embarrassment or humour amongst visitors. Each section of the exhibit at this point is dedicated to a certain room of the villa, be it the garden, kitchen, bathroom, or social room, and we're enabled to fully appreciate the luxurious excitement of life at this time and place.  Life becomes so tangible, and the true impact of the eruption is made uncomfortably clear.

A Pompeian villa that now displays minimal destruction.
 The image is my own. 

We're shown incredible pieces of jewellery, including rings, necklaces, many earrings, and

snake-inspired bangles. The latter must get the most appreciation from female visitors: if auctioned for some unbeknown reason, they would surely achieve an exceptional amount. However, soon after the mood of the exhibit changes. We turn the corner and see the bodies that were found with jewellery - for one, there is the famous "resin woman", so-called because the void of the body left in ash was filled with clear epoxy resin. This woman died in the basement of a villa near Pompeii, and she is shown in the exhibit with a plain gold armlet, a gold ring with its gem stone, and the silver pin that she would have worn in her hair.

The ruts of carriage wheels in Pompeii
(my image).

Nearby is an entire family that died together, huddled in an alcove under the stairs of a house. A child is on its mother's lap. Mother and father appear to be falling backwards, reeling from the tremendous blast of heat. A child lies in the boxer pose, meaning that the searing temperatures had caused its tendons to contract.

Pompeii was said to have had a population of about 15,000, and only 10 per cent of those bodies were ever accounted for. Some must have fled, taking whatever was most precious to them – we see, for instance, what may have been a soldier, who died with a long sword, a stabbing dagger and a bag of tools. Another was found with them a wicker basket containing bronze coins and the key to a house that would have been an expected return point. In recent years, 300 bodies were found along the Herculaneum shore line, suggesting an attempt to escape that was just too late.

The most interesting, although morbid, factor to consider is that there is so much excavation still to be done: approximately 30% of Pompeii is still buried, and considerably more of Herculaneum (due to the more challenging excavation conditions). Only after that time will we be able to learn how many successfully fled, and how many lost their lives due to Vesuvius. However, archaeologists have brought to our attention so many artifacts and details of contemporary Roman life, and the British Museum displays them in a successfully innovative, interesting way. No wonder summer trips to Naples, Sorrento and the Amalfi Coast for 2013 have boomed. 

"Darkness fell, not the dark of a moonless or cloudy night, but as if the lamp had been put out in a dark room," ~ Pliny the Younger

An unsettling Pompeii cast (my image).

If you're interested, you can buy the exhibition book on Amazon: Life and death in Pompeii and Herculaneum by Paul Roberts.

A Trip to Barcelona: Attractions, Literature, Architecture

Gaudi architecture in Barcelona.
Image from Pinterest.

As some may know, I will be spending my next university year in Spain, as part of my year abroad. I have chosen to work in Barcelona, for reasons of location, the Catalan language and, primarily, culture. The city's cultural attractions include Gaudi's architecture, the Sagrada Família, and the National Museum of Art of Catalonia. There are so many other examples, and I look forward to writing about them (and, of course, taking lots of photos to share) on my trip to Barcelona.

In this brief post, I'd like to discuss Barcelona's literary influence. Firstly, I have to mention The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafón. This is a fantastic book, particularly when read in the original Spanish. The novel is set in the aftermath of the Spanish Civil War, and, as an ultimately gothic literary thriller, it deals with mystery, murder, madness and doomed love. This spans all corners of the city, and often uses the famous café Els Quatre Gats on Carrer Montsió for orientation: one of the main centres of Modernisme in Barcelona. The narrator writes,

"Els Quatre Gats was just a five-minute walk from our house and one of my favourite haunts … Inside, voices seemed to echo with shadows of other times. Accountants, dreamers, and would-be geniuses shared tables with the spectres of Pablo Picasso, Isaac Albéniz, Federico García Lorca and Salvador Dalí." 

Secondly, George Orwell's Homage to Catalonia is the classic account of Barcelona and Catalonia during the Civil War. In 1936, Orwell travelled to Spain to report on the conflict, but instead found himself joining the violence. Homage to Catalonia describes the hopes and betrayal of the Spanish revolution, alongside first-hand experience, in an honest and personal way. In the following quote, Orwell describes Las Ramblas in central Barcelona:

"Practically every building of any size had been seized by the workers and was draped with red flags or with the red and black flag of the anarchists: every wall was scrawled with the hammer and sickle … Down the Ramblas … the loudspeakers were bellowing revolutionary songs."

Literature is such a good way to prepare you for visiting a place, and I hope to soon share some full posts on fiction (and non-fiction) set in the Spanish city. For now, I'll leave you with a list of Barcelona-based literature that I'd like to read:

Parc Güell. Image from http://www.welcome-to-barcelona.com/

• The Angel's Game by Carlos Ruiz Zafón
• Marks of Identity by Juan Goytisolo
• Homage to Barcelona by Colm Tóibín
• The Angst-ridden Executive by Manuel Vázquez Montalbán
• The Time of the Doves by Mercè Rodoreda

I'd love to know any other recommendations you may have - feel free to comment below!