Emile Zola – Jam and Idleness

2015: Year of the Woolf

It’s been a satisfying and frustrating year; one of highs and lows, hope and something approaching despair (never actual despair; there would be no talking about full and ripe despair); productivity and slackness; the joyful and the maudlin…. Where am I going here? Straight to Dickens, it seems: 2015 really has encompassed the best and worst of…

I used to be a book reviewer

I used to be a book reviewer, sort of. Maybe it would be more accurate to say that for several years in a row, I wrote something about every, or almost every, book I read. My first blog, Bookphilia, was born out of my inability to remember how I’d ever ended up doing a PhD…

Saturday, housebound

I had big plans for this day. My husband’s sunning himself in Costa Rica (when he’s not being rained on by the rain that only happens in the jungle; the kind of rain that, when it hits you, feels like it’s landing a blow, like it’s exacting revenge); I’d looked forward to a good urban…