Mr Dickens’ own Bexley Blogbwawy – a vewy special guest appeawance.

It is with exceedingly great pleasure that we introduce a very, very special guest Blogger to the Blogbrary page this week: celebrating his 200th birthday, we’re delighted to welcome Mr Charles Dickens…

Changing Times:




Thank-you indeed; it is with the gweatest imaginable delight that I have been invited now (upon this, the bi-centennial celebwation of my – not unhumble – birth) to bwoadcast to you, beloved Bexley Bowwowers, a specially cwafted message (or “Blog” as those fwightfully bwight young folks clicking away at their scweens call it–Well! My! ‘Pon my Soul! How shares in the quill pen industwy must have plummeted of late!).


I must say, the litewawy world is a vewy diffewent place now, although much does – alas – wemain the same... (angwy fellows with aggwessive bull-nosed hounds, ewwant financiers and a gweat gulf betwixt wich and poor; and, of course, the dear old gwey and gwimy Thames which keeps wolling along your northern exwemities …)






Weading and Libwawies:


However, I am delighted to note that books and weading wemain popular even now – above all, how I envy you your wonderful public libwawies: a stupendously beneficial institution which (I have no hesitation in wemarking upon) would have wevolutionised my own impecunious childhood and subsequent scwibbling caweer…






Additionally, I find it exceedingly comforting to witness what a splendid collection of my own works you have here in Bexley Libwawies – Gweat Expectations, The Old Cuwiosity Shop, Our Mutual Fwiend, Litle Dowwit, even my unfinished Edwin Dwood…capital stuff!


In addition – and bless my whiskewy cheeks! – what a vewitable feast of biogwaphical matewials your libwawy holds upon my own life and times. What larks, eh? (My one word of caution, however, would be to take any scuwwilous publication cwiticising my welationships with the faiwer gender with an amply sized pinch of salt!)


Lastly, I note with no little sense of amazement that electwonic books have awwived via your libwawies, completely bypassing the old fashioned concept of steam-e-weaders. Ah!, the wonders of technology.






“Chat with Charlie” - Fwequently Asked Qwuestions?:


Well, my beloved fwiends, I gwow weawy now; I shall depart. However, mine hosts (those splendid Libwawians who manage this “web page”) have invited me to appear wegularly this year; hence it is my intention to wegale you often with a wange of wight woyal wollickingly weadble weviews thwoughout 2012.


Hence, if you have any qwuestions, cwiticisms or quewies about me, my life, times and work, then do not hesitate – simply contact me by utilising the `comments' facility so cunningly and carefully pwovided below.

I await your cowwespondence with no little sense of twepidation…

Cheewio!

(Mr C Dickens of London, Kent and occasional wambles thwough bits of Bexley).

The great lost apostrophe catastrophe…

Whats your view’s?



Greeting’s, Blog-followers’!







Now, keen eyed reader’s may have seen that the well known chain of bookshops’ WATERSTONE’S have decided that apostrophe’s don’t matter (insert gasp of astonishment HERE!) and wish to be known henceforth as, simply, WATERSTONES. (They claim that the apostrophe is redundant, apparently, and unhelpful in the new e-media age…(Goodnes's only knows what Eddie Royle might say!)






Well, its true…I confess…apostrophe’s arent really my thing either, and I often struggle with the little wriggler’s myself, as I cant always see the point of em, but even so I was a bit surprised about this new’s. (I know its driven some of my Research Team colleagues’ into paroxysm’s of rage).


As one of them wisely pointed out: imagine your local library service devising the slogan “LIBRARIES – We’re here to help” but omitting the little ‘ bit…then wed be in a right old can of worm’s, eh?






(Luckily, dear reader's, we do have lots of tip-top punctuation guides available, so thats a relief)


So: heres the question: apostrophe’s – doe’s it matter? Wed love to have your view’s.


Just use the comment’s box below.






TTF’N

“Psssssstt!!!! ...

Call the Midwife ...

this one’s going to be BIG”!

Pssssstt!!! – Pass it on:

What-ho, Blog-followers…
Some books get big by word of mouth, don’t you find? They don’t get much mention in the press when they’re first published, they don’t get picked up by Richard & Judy, and they don’t win prizes…

But what they do is get lodged in your mind…you can’t stop reading them…you can’t stop thinking about them…you just have to tell someone about them…
Personal recommendation and enthusiastic word of mouth reviews are what we’re about, and it’s wonderful when others enjoy ‘em too…The Dig, Alone in Berlin, Dark Matter and a Month in the Country are just a few of my own *`Psssstt – pass it on choices`, but the one that ‘s really done the rounds (pardon the pun) and made it big is Call the Midwife by Jennifer Worth.
I was first told about this a few years ago at a very posh publishers' soiree (I must’ve been invited by mistake!) by a very grand lady, who looked not dissimilar to my untutored eye to Barbara Cartland: (I`m fairly certain now that it wasn’t her in fact, as this particular lady told me two of the coarsest jokes I`ve ever heard**).
Anyway, she huskily whispered to me: “Young Man!” (for I suspect her eyesight must have been not of the keenest variety) “If you only read one more book again in your life then you MUST read Call the Midwife. It’s stunning, stupendous and will be one of the biggest books of the decade”. And – by crikey – she was right! It is stunning.

It’s become a real word-of-mouth phenomenon, and everyone I`ve recommended it to thinks it’s stunning too. And now, blow me down, the dear old BBC have heard about it and are going to make it their big blockbuster drama event of the spring.

So...Psssstttt! Take it from me – this one’s going to be BIG!
Get in quick!
Read it NOW!

TTFN

 * But I’d like to hear about your own `Pssssttt! Pass it On’ choices., obviously…




** See the Blogbrarian in person for more details.

The Borrowers...

(Or: "There's something about Mary"...)

“Never a lender nor borrower be” goes the old saying, to paraphrase The Bard….but where would that leave the great British public library service, eh?...No, no dear readers – lending and borrowing, particularly during these straitened times, might very well become a more common currency…

I was pondering this whilst watching the excellent BBC production of The Borrowers this yuletide past (did anyone else see it?...what did you think?)
Wasn’t it splendid!






I seem to recall reading the book as a young blognipper, but – confess – I know little about its author, one Mary Norton (1903 – 1992)…


Hence, I have mobilised my research team to investigate, and here are their findings, condensed into an exquisitely compact and thimble-sized FIVE FACTS:


1) Mary Norton devised the idea of the tiny Borrowers, as she was immensely short-sighted a child: she remembered peering close up into grass, tree roots, beneath the furniture, cracks in the floorboards and such like…it made her wonder what life would be like for tiny little creatures, and how they’d cope with such obstacles in their way, and that’s how the idea began…


2) Mary seems to have been universally liked and admired: “She was as thin as a wasp, and very pale and quiet and gentle” wrote one contemporary, while her publisher said “there were few authors quite so charming and distinguished as Mary, so vital, and with such a marvellous sense of humour”.


3) During the war, Mary’s husband served in the Royal Navy, and the family were based in New York – it was here that she published her first children’s books `The Magic Bed-Knob` and then `Bonfires and Broomsticks` - back in England, her publishers (wisely) revised the titles into one volume: ‘Bedknobs and Broomsticks’!


4) Despite her wealth and social standing, Mary had an acute social conscience, a deep sympathy for the underdog, and a growing awareness of green issues – it’s been suggested that The Borrowers actually represented the real “little people” of post-war Britain suffering economic and social hardships, poverty, rationing, unemployment and hunger: Arrietty is the forerunner of many an anguished teenager, and the destruction of the Borrowers’ environment represents ecological and civic decline…All very modern!


5) Despite this, Mary Norton remained an optimistic and cheerful campaigner for children, and the value of reading, with a refreshingly anarchic tinge…"Children nowadays are encouraged to invent, but still in ways devised by adults: `Clear up that mess!’ has destroyed many a secret world…chaos and destruction worries grown-ups far more than it does children…if imagination and the raw materials are there to hand, they simply build again”.






Mary Norton – I like the cut of your jib, and I salute you!






Now, where was I? And where did I leave my thimble?...Ah, yes! – I remember…


"Borrowing” – sorry, Shakespeare old chap, but the idea of borrowing and lending has never been so important, in so many ways…WHOOPS!




And don’t forget, dear readers and borrowers; YOUR LIBRARY NEEDS YOU!


MAKE DO AND MEND!!


YOU’VE NEVER HAD IT SO GOOD!!!






TTFN

“Old Blogger’s Almanack,

A Big Book Look, and a 2012 Delve..”


What – ho!







Well, Blogfollowers…Happy New Year, and all that; now, I don’t want to alarm you, but… according to this book about the ancient Mayans, we’re all doomed in 2012…

Here’s the ‘blurb’: “2012: The Year of the Mayan Prophecy is a literary and metaphysical epic that binds together the cosmological phenomena of our time, ranging from crop circles to quantum theory to the worldwide resurgence of shamanism, supporting the Mayan prophecy that the year 2012 will bring an unprecedented global shift. In tracing the meaning of the prophetic Mayan 'end date' of 2012 to our present society, Daniel Pinchbeck draws together alien abductions, psychedelic visions, the current ecological crisis and other peculiar aspects of 21st century life into a new vision for our time. 2012 heralds the end of one way of existence and the return of another, in which the Mesoamerican God Quetzalcoatl returns, bringing with him an ancient - yet to us, wholly new - way of living. There are many hints, both in quantum theory and elsewhere, that humanity is precariously balanced between greater self-potential and environmental disaster. Pinchbeck's journey, which takes us from the endangered rainforests of the Amazon to Stonehenge in England, tells the story of a man in whose trials we recognise our own hopes and anxieties about modern life”.

Gosh!

Our old pal Sting liked the book, too: "'An intriguing and deeply personal odyssey of transformation… robust, and original”

Gosh again!






The end of time?


It seems that the ancient Mayans deemed that 2012 would mark the end of recorded time, and didn’t think it be worth prophesying any further…


Gulp!


Our old friend Nostradamus, too, expressed concerns about the forthcoming year… “A great smell will emanate from Lausanne but its origins will be unknown” he writes (although this isn’t mentioned in any of the current travel guides). “People from far away will be put out; fire is seen in the sky, a foreign people is defeated” he goes on, and “The seven branches will become three…the elder ones will be surprised by death. Two will be attracted towards fratricide, the conspirators will die in their sleep.”


Goodness, that is a worry…


Then “At the turning of the great seventh number, it will appear at the time of the games of great public sacrifice” (the Olympics, perhaps?...) and  finally “The dethroned woman will return to her reign, her enemies found amongst the conspirators. More than ever she will rule triumphantly, at seventy-three she will assuredly die.”



Well, that’s all a bit of a worry too…Happily, though – I`ll be alright – I’ve purchased some earmuffs and have laid down some nice new thick carpet in my garden shed, so that should see me through the worst eventualities…


Anyway, in keeping with this theme of foretelling the future, my Research Team have been busy: they’ve polished up the Bexley Library Service Crystal Ball, read the runes, and divined their entrails (I never knew librarians had such guts!) and here’s what they’ve come up with for 2012…






It’ll be a leap year, and the Chinese Year of the Dragon…



On the sporting front, we’ll have the Olympics, of course…Plus the European Football Championships (alas, my researchers can’t foretell whether Wayne Rooney will start play or – indeed – how luxuriant his new hair will be)…


Looking ahead, we’ll be celebrating a cornucopia of historical events – our own dear Queen will be marking her Jubilee (I`m particularly excited about the Thames Cavalcade)…It’ll be 100 years since the Titanic went down, and 200 years since Napoleon’s retreat from Moscow…



On the literary front, we’ll be celebrating Mr Dickens’s 200th birthday, The Hobbit’s 75th, and Adrian Mole’s 30th. What larks!


So, there’s lots to look forward to in 2012, as long as the Mayans were wrong…Enjoy reading all about it with Bex-L and Bexley Libraries!




...(Oh, breaking news, dear readers – sorry, but the proposed Bexley Librarians’ inaugural psychic fair and soothsaying seminar has been cancelled due to unforeseen circumstances…Boom boom!)






TTFN, dear readers, and a Happy New Year!

'Twas the Night before Christmas - a seasonal advent catablog, with clicks to open and bits that pop up!

By (and with apologies to) Clement C Moore 1779-1863





'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house



Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;



The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,



In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;



The children were nestled all snug in their beds,



While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;



And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,



Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,



When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,



I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.



Away to the window I flew like a flash,



Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.



The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow


Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,



When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,



But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,



With a little old driver, so lively and quick,



I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.



More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,



And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;



"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!



On, Comet! on Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!



To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!



Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"



As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,



When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,



So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,



With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.



And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof


The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.



As I drew in my head, and was turning around,



Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.



He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,



And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;



A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,



And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.



His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!



His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!



His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,



And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;



The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,



And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;



He had a broad face and a little round belly,



That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.



He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,



And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;



A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,



Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;



He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,



And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,



And laying his finger aside of his nose,



And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;



He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,



And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.



But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,



"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."

*****

And, dear readers, on behalf of the Blogbrary Editorial Board, his extensive Research Team, and all the Library Elves, can we wish everyone a very happy, peaceful, and joyous Christmas….

TTFN!