Greer takes on Proust. Greer wins.

Germaine Greer at Humber Mouth Festival 2006

Image credit: Here

Germaine's never been one to hold back. If she's got an opinion, she'll let you know it and frankly, although I don't always agree with what she's saying, I think it's a damn good thing that we have someone like her around. It takes a lot of grit to come out and say what you're really thinking, particularly if it's not the kind of thing that's 'supposed' to be said out loud and kudos to her for doing it.

This article is yet another example of Greer's refreshing (and occasionally scathing) honesty. This woman is a fully fledged card-carrying member of the literati - a PhD from Cambridge and Professor Emeritus in Literature and Comparative Studies of University of Warwick, one of the most influential feminist theorists in the 20th century - and yet here she is, yet again, saying what no other literary person would dare to say publicly: If you haven't read Proust, don't bother. It's a waste of your time. She herself has, of course, made the epic journey through all five volumes and goes on to give a critical commentary of the many and varied translations but basically, the first paragraph said it all for me. There are, according to Greer, better things to do with your time than hauling yourself through this book - such as visiting a demented relative or walking the dog.

Thank you, Germaine, for alleviating some of my "I really should have read that" literature anxiety. I knew I'd never read this but now I don't feel bad about it. Not even a little bit.

Culture shockin'

I've done this before, you know, this moving country lark. Of course, that was 14 years ago when I was a good deal younger and it was to a country that spoke (a version) of my mother tongue and had a culture that wasn't a million miles removed from the one I had grown up in thus far.

This move is something quite different.

I've been here for four weeks now and I'm just starting to get a handle on what it means to live here. The language. The culture. The masses of people and profusion of concrete. Driving on the other side of the road - not just a trick for young players who are also trying to drive but a hazard for newbies trying to cross the road who are used to looking left, then right then left again. The proliferation of all kinds of signs in neon and flashing lights. People staring at me because I'm the only white woman in a 5 mile radius. Yup, I've got a case of severe culture shock.

Apparently, according to anthropologist Kalervo Oberg (1901-1973) there are four stages to culture shock:

1) The Honeymoon Stage - Where everything is new and exciting.

2) The Crisis or Culture Shock Stage - Reality hits! Everything is overwhelming and you're insanely homesick.

3) The Adjustment or Recovery Stage - Things become a bit more normal and you feel somewhat more settled. This stage is not a clear stage as it involves a bit of oscillation between Honeymoon stage excitement and Crisis stage depression and frustration but hey - it's progress.

4) The Adaptation Stage where you've come through the darkness and made it out to the other side and you feel settled and comfortable in your new environment.

Figure credit

At this stage I'd estimate myself to be in the third stage. I'm excited to be here but on occasion I just want to curl up in a ball and hide. The main anxiety for me is going out alone without the hubby in tow. As he's originally a local, fluent in the language and culture and has been living here for the past 2ish years, he can translate for me, guide me across roads and gently guide me on issues I'm unsure about ("what on earth is THAT?!") Not to mention that when I'm with him and people stare at me I don't really mind but when I'm by myself, already feeling self-conscious and awkward the last thing I want is to think people are witnessing my awkwardness.

I was thinking about what culture shock means to me personally the other day and basically I boiled it down to complete and utter DIFFERENCE. You come to a place with ideas and expectations only to be met with a completely different reality. It's not just the big things like "I can't understand a damn word that person just said!" it's the small things too. In fact I think the small things are sometimes the ones that make bigger cracks in your ability to cope as they're usually things you never realised would be an issue.

Small things like going to a public loo and there being no tissue supplied, or not being able to flush the tissue down the loo and having to stuff it into the bin provided (ill-attended public toilets on a hot day - not advisable). Things like going for a walk and there are no pavements in one half of the town. Going to the supermarket and the layout is completely different and confusing and it takes you three times as long to find what you wanted. Sometimes you don't find what you wanted. The constant smell in the air - not necessarily a nasty smell, just a smell of something or other. My favourites are when you go shopping and you are blatantly reminded that you're just not in Kansas anymore, Toto, by seeing some of the things that are sold. For instance vodka on the shelf next to the magazines at the local 7/11. Or a wide and interesting array of sex toys (including items for gentlemen) at eye level in aisle six alongside the stationery at your local supermarket.

It's things like this that are culture shock to me. The things I didn't expect and couldn't possibly have anticipated. The things that blow your mind and leave them in a forever-expanded state. This is what travelling is about, after all, right? Seeing things that make you go "Wow!" or "Gross!" or "Who knew?!" It's coming home with a armload of "You'll never guess what!" stories. It's knowing that you've been there and experienced that.

I just wish it wasn't so damn hard is all. Mind you - I guess nothing worth achieving was ever easy... or so they keep telling me!

Now that makes me feel a bit better...

Image Source: Here

This article on Stuff has alleviated a little of my constant book anxiety.

Allegedly, 2 out of 3 Brits lie about which books they have read - no doubt in an attempt to not seem lazy/uneducated/unknowledgeable. I recognise the desire to answer "Yes" when asked if I have read one of those books that you know you 'should' have read... but I never do it. For the simple reason that what if that person asking me has actually read it. How stupid would I feel if they were to say to me 'Oh really, what did you think about such and such character and their reaction to such and such event in the novel' or something similar? Then I would look even more ridiculous than if I simply told the truth that I'm working on my dream of being more widely read, have a thousand books I want to read but am constrained by the brutal fact of having very little time.

The top ten books that those surveyed claim to have read are:

1 - 1984 by George Orwell (42%)

2 - War and Peace by Tolstoy (31%)

3 - Ulysses - James Joyce (25%)

4 - The Bible

5 - Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert (16%)

6 - A brief history of time by Stephen Hawkins (15%)

7 - Midnight's Children by Salman Rushdie (14%)

8 - In remembrance of things past by Marcel Proust (9%)

9 - Dreams from my Father by Barack Obama (6%)

10 - The selfish gene by Richard Dawkins (6%)

Of these books I have read only some sections of The Bible. I own War and Peace but have yet to open it and once got Midnight's Children out of the library - I ran out of time to read it, I had too much stuff on and I didn't make the time for it as I could/would/should have. I can tell you with confidence I will never read Ulysses by Joyce nor will I tackle Proust's seven volume epic. I would like to read Madame Bovary, 1984 and Dreams from my Father, maybe even Hawkins' book one of these days. But all in good time.

I guess the relief is that perhaps when someone claims to have read something you haven't they might not have... Being widely read takes time after all and I have plenty of reading years ahead of me.

Impending marriage and other fun things...

I'm getting married in a few months.

Wow.

Even looking at that, black and white, typed on the page is a little bit unreal. Don't get me wrong, I am really excited about being married to my future hubby. It's not the being married to him that is strange and unreal to me. It's the fact that I'm 'here' already. I've looked forward to it for so long that it hardly seems that it can be true that it's so close now.

It's going to be a huge change for me, mentally. Although I already feel a part of my in-laws family, this is the sealing of the deal. The changing of my last name will be a good symbolic step I think. The leaving behind of past hurts and moving forward with a new identity (almost) into my future. It's a necessary and much welcomed step but there's still that tiny tug of apprehension that you always feel when you place your heart, trust and destiny in the hands of another. Having grown up in a situation where I couldn't trust those around me with the above mentioned things, I find it really difficult to let go and trust someone else completely.

I want to. I just need to let myself do it.

So many books, so little time...

Quote of the month:

"Why plough doggedly through an indifferent book, when you know you'll die leaving so many great books unread?"
-Linley Boniface, Booknotes, 161, Autumn 2008.

This quote is a slice of perceptive genius, and for a bookworm like myself, something of a manifesto. Why read dross when there is so much gold out there? My bookshelf is half full of books I haven't quite found the time to read yet. Books like The Handmaid's Tale by my beloved Margaret Atwood; The great classic War and Peace; Wild Swans by Jung Chang... the list goes on and numbers up into the thirties. It's not that I don't read, I most certainly do (studying literature at Masters level does require a modicum of reading after all) but my buying of books that I "must have" seems to outstrip my current reading rate! I do, after all, aspire to the likes of Peter Lineham who had to have the foundations of his house strengthened to accomodate his book collection.

In any case, this quote was a good wake up call. There have been times when I have wasted HOURS over a book that I didn't really want to keep reading, but did for reasons that, given this new perspective, now escape me. The next time I find myself checking how many pages I have to go before the end (a sure sign that I'm not enjoying the book) I shall be setting it aside and picking up a book that truly deserves my attention.

Problem is... which one?