Winter’s dregs made desolate
The weakening eye of day.
These days, the ones which are almost there but not quite, so close to both Christmas and the end of the year, and yet somehow a little adrift: the twinkling harbour lights can be seen on the horizon, the mooring in view, and although the sails are full, the breeze gives little traction. Perhaps it’s the shortness of the days, the low, heavy cloud, travelling to work in the half light, the return in darkness, one day merging into the next, stretching out time, slowing things down.
Bicester was particularly dark the other evening, the rain and wind seemed to have drained any brightness there might have been in the streetlights. Collar up, head down, the prospect of the warmth and comfort of the library awaits. The Chess Club was just finishing, the fellow hardy souls who’d braved the elements to spend time with Henry Porter talking about The Enigma Girl gathered around the tea and coffee, an evening of book chatter the antidote to the harshness outside. There is comfort to be had in books and doing book things in a place of books. Perhaps that’s what makes a house with books a home, a place of warmth and calm, perhaps that’s why bookshops remain special – when there’s harshness about, enjoy the friendship afforded amongst the books.
The Darkling Thrush by Thomas Hardy
I leant upon a coppice gate
When Frost was spectre-grey,
And Winter’s dregs made desolate
The weakening eye of day.
The tangled bine-stems scored the sky
Like strings of broken lyres,
And all mankind that haunted nigh
Had sought their household fires.
The land’s sharp features seemed to be
The Century’s corpse outleant,
His crypt the cloudy canopy,
The wind his death-lament.
The ancient pulse of germ and birth
Was shrunken hard and dry,
And every spirit upon earth
Seemed fervourless as I.
At once a voice arose among
The bleak twigs overhead
In a full-hearted evensong
Of joy illimited;
An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,
In blast-beruffled plume,
Had chosen thus to fling his soul
Upon the growing gloom.
So little cause for carolings
Of such ecstatic sound
Was written on terrestrial things
Afar or nigh around,
That I could think there trembled through
His happy good-night air
Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew
And I was unaware.
As the cold draws in and the season gets busier, you might find yourself dipping into a book in bite-sized moments, and this week’s top fiction pick lets you do just that. In She’s Always Hungry, Eliza Clark writes speculative body horror stories that dig deep into hunger. Whether it’s a teenager’s desire for beauty or a scientist’s care for alien flora, Clark’s stories are surreal worlds that might make your skin crawl. And our top non-fiction book is a memoir to inspire – as Daniel Radcliffe’s stunt double, David Holmes brought the magic to the screen with incredible Quidditch sequences, but when he was paralysed during the making of the films, his whole life changed overnight. What follows is a story of hope, vulnerability, and friendship.
In fiction, a special hardback edition of End of the World and Hard-Boiled Wonderland has been released – this surreal tale of philosophy, computers, and unicorns solidified Murakami as a key author in the magical realism zeitgeist. In sci-fi and fantasy, Troll by Johanna Sinisalo is an intoxicating tale of the dark underbelly of human desire, where a young photographer brings a helpless troll into their home with strange consequences. And A Monsoon Rising is Thea Guanzon’s second book in the Hurricane Wars trilogy: this fantasy romance of rival lovers will leave you giddy. In manga, the horror master, Junji Ito, reveals his influences, artistic techniques, and world-building secrets in Uncanny: The Origins of Fear.
Over in non-fiction, Donna Ashworth’s will help you start afresh with encouraging wisdom and thoughtful poems; this daily journal has helpful prompts to boost your joy, help you stay on track with goals, and cope with tricky feelings. Jen Chillingsworth provides sustainable projects to make this festive season more meaningful and kind for the planet. And of course, it wouldn’t be Christmas without some humorous books for the stocking: Surely It Can’t Just Be Me is this year’s collection of astute observations from the Telegraph letter writers, and Pont’s idiosyncratic observations of the British character feature in this charmingly illustrated book.
For children 8+, Dog Man is back with Big Jim Begins. In this book in the beloved series by Dav Pilkey, discover the characters’ origins as they join forces to save the city from the Space Cuties! And for little ones (or nostalgic collectors), the doll’s house edition of The Gruffalo features tiny illustrations from Axel Scheffler in a pocket-sized gift book.
As always, if you have any questions, or you want anything ordering in, do let us know!
From Sophie
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