celticman's blog

The old imperishables, distinguished looking books of a certain era, scratched and tried to jump into my hand and sit on my lap. They know well my habits. ‘Where have you been?’they cried in unison. ‘I’ve been trying on another life. But they didn’t believe I’d neglect them just because of that. ‘It didn’t fit’. They believed that. The dusty crones waited for me to talk more man-soiled rubbish; every page an invitation. ‘There’s always somebody...

Into the Wild (2007) is Sean Penn’s baby. He got the money together to make a film about Chris McCandless who gave everything away, even his Giro, and went to live in the great American wildness and find himself. At almost three hours long he must have got lost a few times, or my eyes kept opening and shutting. I gave up. Even my early training in watching Lassie and Skippy the Bush kangaroo wasn’t enough. I mounted the stairs a broken and tired...

George Mackay Brown. Celia I thought I’d ready George Mackay Brown because I could vaguely remember The House with Green Shutters. But that was George Douglas Brown. Ceila is probably what would be called a novella, which means it’s short, about 30 pages, but perfectly formed. It’s a slow burner. One of my favourite lines is ‘Faces tell lies to one another…The truth gets buried under smiles.’ There is a consistent strand of psychological...