A reader's footprints – journeying through books and foreign lands

Posted on January 30, 2026January 30, 2026 by michelle

“…. what she promises, she performs”

Diaries begin. First, self-assessments, then by February a comfortable falling back into old habits. Sensible diarists like Lady Eleanor Butler had no truck with good resolutions and just settled down to a pleasant winter.
‘Freezing hard. Windy. Cold, but very comfortable in the dressing room and an excellent fire. Shutters closed. Curtains let down. Candles lighted – our pens and ink. Spent the evening very pleasantly reading Tristram Shandy aloud adjourned to the library. Worked – laughed.’

Self-lacerating diarists such as Katherine Mansfield tore them-selves to pieces.
2nd January 1922: ‘I have not done the work I should have done… This is very bad. In fact I am disgusted with myself. There must be a change from now on. What I chiefly admire in Jane Austen is that what she promises, she performs…’

Ah, if only we all performed what we promised, how satisfying this would be. Nature does. Bulbs tip the surface and will bloom, catkin stubs on the January branch will tassel. The sun just showing above the hill will run up the sky. I observe it, drinking tea by the window through which the old farmers stared, generation after generation. Same sun, same hill, and Shakespeare sixty miles away, writing A Winter’s Tale.

Ronald Blythe, ‘Next To Nature: A Lifetime in the English Countryside’.

Ah, if only we are more forgiving of ourselves and just learn to enjoy all the small moments of joy in our everyday….. That was probably how Lady Eleanor Butler managed to live and laugh to a ripe old age of 90 as opposed to the self-lacerating Katherine Mansfield’s short tragic life.

A merry heart does good, like medicine, But a broken spirit dries the bones.

Proverbs 17:22 (NKJV)

By the way, Blythe was one of my favourite discoveries last year.
Am still taking my time and enjoying this volume slowly.

Posted on January 8, 2026January 8, 2026 by michelle

New Year, New Beginnings

Love the title… how promising it sounds!

Happy New Year, dear friends…..

…… hope your Christmas had been merry and bright!

Sorry for the belated greetings…. I hope the year had ended well for all of you and is already off to a good start.

Personally, I am just slowly coming out from a season of grief following the unexpected loss of another one of my cats in early December. It was my third loss in just the span of the last six months and so it felt like the straw that finally broke the camel’s back. Lost my joy in most things on most days, hardly read anything and was just kinda down and out for the better part of the month.

Even the annual year end Big Bad Wolf Book Sale failed to provide the much needed cheer and comfort I was hoping it would. To say that it was a most underwhelming and disappointing affair would be an understatement.

The only consolation was that I had some vouchers that allowed me to pick a few books for next to nothing, and the venue of the sale was just next to my workplace so minimum effort was needed to check out the sale during my lunch breaks.

I know i shouldn’t be complaining, really. But still….

An unexpected “other” book sale however, did manage to provide the much welcomed dose of dopamine.

Very happy with these finds – especially the one on cats.

Have read many good things about these two…. don’t they look good together?

Happy to add another Drabble to my shelves. And the Rogue Male might not have come home with me if the cover had been a different one. :p

Last year, fewer books were added to the shelves as compared to previous years, and even fewer books were actually read from the stacks.
This year, more books are going to be added to the shelves no doubt, but hopefully even more will be pulled out and read from them.

That which has been is what will be,
That which is done is what will be done,
And there is nothing new under the sun.

Ecclesiastes 1:9 (NKJV)

The struggles and the issues may still be the same.
But the approach towards them and the eventual outcomes need not be.
I really think it’s possible that this year it will be different.

Wishing all of you, a year filled with possibilities.

Happy New Year!

Posted on October 15, 2025October 15, 2025 by michelle

Endgame

Not to worry about the alarming title for the post…. that just happened to be the title of my current ongoing read – May Sarton’s memoir of her seventy eighth year, which has surprisingly turned out to be quite a comforting read.

And to echo Sarton’s words, a great deal has indeed happened in the months past since my last post.

A series of unfortunate events (I’ve always been curious about the Lemony Snicket books, by the way) that resulted in quite a bit of downtime and the need for recovery in the household.

If only I could report back that all of us made it through to the other side safely, how wonderful it would be.

Sadly, that is not to be…. my dear Arctic boy didn’t make it.

And it was the hardest hit of all.

My only consolation was that he passed on while being held in my arms.

Rest well, dear boy….. till we meet again.

There are gaps of time into which we sometimes fall, when the pattern of our days is suspended. It happens when there is a birth or a death, an arrival or a departure, the moments either side of it becoming forms of descent and recovery, when we do not know quite what to do or how long this unexpected bewilderment will last.

Time stops for the dead, but it comes back again and again for the living. It is always there for us, and slowly we start to understand what it is like to live with our grief. We learn to be watchful, to breathe more carefully and smile more cautiously, to see once more even if we have been blinded by loss. We look steadily towards the advancing light.

James Runcie, “The Great Passion”.

Posted on April 6, 2025April 6, 2025 by michelle

These Precious Days….

It wasn’t until I wrote the title essay, “These Precious Days,” that I realized I would have to put a book together. That essay was so important to me that I wanted to build a solid shelter for it. I started writing more essays. […] Through these essays, I could watch myself grappling with the same themes in my writing and in my life: what I needed, whom I loved, what I could let go, and how much energy the letting go would take.

Ann Patchett, 'These Precious Days'.

I have been meaning to read Ann Patchett for a long time now… her non-fiction writing, that is – Truth & Beauty, in particular. While I still have yet to get to that memoir of her friendship with fellow writer Lucy Grealy, I’m glad to have finally gotten around to these essays and find that they do not disappoint.

As it happens, I have also been following some of her Instagram posts (@parnassusbooks) where she will make her bookish recommendations from her bookstore Parnassus Books, every Friday (usually with her dog in her arms), and thought she seemed like someone who is very down to earth, relatable and rather approachable.

Her voice in these essays match the IG persona I’ve come to be acquainted with, and going through this collection felt abit like getting to know a friend better. My favourite picks from the essays are the ones on Snoopy, her grandmother’s nightstand, and her three fathers.

Yes, in that order.

And speaking of precious days, thought I’d just conveniently borrow the title and share a brief summary of sorts for the days that have gone by since my last post.

Two particular highlights from books read/ listened to in the past months:

One of the only 2 precious copies of Persephone books that I own. Bought this more than a decade ago – a long overdue treat!

Precious are the days where book mails are safely received! Received both these Christmas & birthday gifts from the dear Anna (@aroundtheworld.in800books).

(Fun fact: It was the discovery of these newly issued (back then in 2016) Penguin editions of Brookner at a local bookstore, that got my Instagram account started.)

Had a quietly satisfying birthday, filled with happiness that came in scoops and boxes. :p

Managed to finally TNR (Trap-Neuter-Release) two stray kitties I have been feeding and gaining trust with over the past year or so. So thankful and relieved for the success, as this has really been something weighing heavily on my heart for a long time.

There were also some precious days of catching up with my best buddy who was back home for a short holiday. I am usually at my most relaxed and unguarded self when I’m with her (and with animals ! ) :p

Having to care for an aged parent with certain health challenges has not been easy, to say the least. Some days are manageable, and some days are just bad.

These were some of the precious ‘good days’.

Every bit counts.

Here’s to more of the good days, to us all!
God bless….

Have courage for the great sorrows of life and patience for the small ones; and when you have laboriously accomplished your daily task, go to sleep in peace. God is awake.
Victor Hugo

Posted on January 4, 2025January 5, 2025 by michelle

Happy New Year, to you

….. & a happy 13th blogivesary, to me. 😊

Thanks for the words of encouragement WP but this can hardly be considered as ‘good blogging’, let’s be honest. :p

Time flies, whether you are having fun or not.

Who would have thought this little space here would still be hanging around today, and not have gotten itself spun out of the blogosphere aeons ago……. when so many other things have been lost along the way, and so much of life has come and gone.

But come what may, I am going to keep this space going for as long as I can. It may be neglected at times, but it will never be abandoned for good. There are just too many bits and parts of me scattered over these (virtual) pages over the years that if I were to lose them, it would feel as if parts of me were missing too.

So, here’s to the next 13 (…. or 30!) years of this reader’s footprints. 😉

Now, back to the books.

My annual year end haul at the Big Bad Wolf Books Sale has been a significantly subdued affair compared to its glory days in the past. With the prices up and the books not as exciting nor appealing (to me), I could only come away with a handful.

5 books, to be exact.

This has been on my wishlist for the longest time, and it was a happy sight to behold at the sale.

A beautiful VMC hardback edition of Molly Keane. I still have her Devoted Ladies unread on the shelves.

So, there’s the bulk of it for this round.

A somewhat disappointing affair, I suppose, but the consolation was that the sale was held at a venue just beside my workplace, so it was with minimal effort on my part to visit the sale during my lunch break every day of the sale and come away with nothing except the 5, which were all spotted on the first day itself.

I shouldn’t be complaining, really.

🙂

Posted on December 25, 2024December 25, 2024 by michelle · 2 Comments

Wishing you, heavenly peace….

Step softly, under snow or rain,
    To find the place where men can pray;
The way is all so very plain
    That we may lose the way.

Oh, we have learnt to peer and pore
    On tortured puzzles from our youth,
We know all labyrinthine lore,
We are the three wise men of yore,
    And we know all things but the truth.

We have gone round and round the hill
    And lost the wood among the trees,
And learnt long names for every ill,
And served the mad gods, naming still
    The furies the Eumenides.

The gods of violence took the veil
    Of vision and philosophy,
The Serpent that brought all men bale,
He bites his own accursed tail,
    And calls himself Eternity.

Go humbly…it has hailed and snowed…
    With voices low and lanterns lit;
So very simple is the road,
    That we may stray from it.

The world grows terrible and white,
    And blinding white the breaking day;
We walk bewildered in the light,
For something is too large for sight,
    And something much too plain to say.

The Child that was ere worlds begun
    (…We need but walk a little way,
We need but see a latch undone…)
The Child that played with moon and sun
    Is playing with a little hay.

The house from which the heavens are fed,
    The old strange house that is our own,
Where trick of words are never said,
And Mercy is as plain as bread,
    And Honour is as hard as stone.

Go humbly, humble are the skies,
    And low and large and fierce the Star;
So very near the Manger lies
    That we may travel far.

Hark! Laughter like a lion wakes
    To roar to the resounding plain.
And the whole heaven shouts and shakes,
    For God Himself is born again,
And we are little children walking
    Through the snow and rain

G. K. Chesterton, ‘The Wise Men‘

Silent night, holy night
All is calm, all is bright
‘Round yon Virgin Mother and Child
Holy Infant so tender and mild
Sleep in heavenly peace
Sleep in heavenly peace.

Silent night, holy night
Shepherds quake at the sight
Glories stream from heaven afar
Heavenly hosts sing, “Alleluia”
Christ the Savior is born
Christ the Savior is born.

Silent night, holy night
Son of God, love’s pure light
Radiant beams from Thy holy face
With the dawn of redeeming grace
Jesus, Lord at Thy birth
Jesus, Lord at Thy birth.

*****************

…. may you sleep in heavenly peace too, my dear Kitto. (24.12.2024)

Posted on October 26, 2024October 26, 2024 by michelle

Enjoying A Fortnight in September, in October.

But he knew that time only moved evenly upon the hands of clocks: to men it can linger and almost stop dead, race on, leap chasms and linger again. He knew, with a little sadness, that it always made up its distance in the end. To-day it had travelled gropingly, like an engine in a fog, but now, with each passing hour of the holiday it would gather speed, and the days would flash by like little wayside stations. In a fortnight he would be sitting in this room on the last evening, thinking how the first night of the holiday seemed like yesterday—full of regrets at wasted time.…”

As always, I seem to have arrived a lil’ late to the party, and getting to things (or books) a lil’ out of season.

R. C. Sherriff’s ‘A Fortnight in September’ has been on my tbr list for a long time now, possibly more than a decade. And it was not until I started listening to it earlier this month that I realized I did not actually have a clear idea what the book was about. Or rather I was under a different impression of what to expect from it.

Well, whatever it was, was nothing at all to what I discovered…. which was nothing short of a most delightful surprise. 🙂

I am still not done with it yet, but the journey thus far has been most enjoyable and I am certain that this little gem will be taking its spot right up there among my all-time favourites, once the Stevenses’ fortnight is over.

Posted on September 22, 2024September 22, 2024 by michelle

Enter the unexpected: Wallace Stegner.

Enter the unexpected – and I dislike the unexpected, unless I had the chance to prepare for it.

The fourth item I took out of my pocket was a postcard, closely written, and forwarded from our New York address of nine years ago. At the bottom of the hill, at the last edge of sun, in the smell of crushed eucalyptus buttons, I stopped and read it.

I started to read from the beginning, and it began to come back. Some people, I am told, have memories like computers, nothing to do but punch the button and wait for the print-out. Mine is more like a Japanese library of the old style, without a card file or an indexing system or any systematic shelf plan. Nobody knows where anything is except the old geezer in felt slippers who has been shuffling up and down those stacks for sixty-nine years. When you hand him a problem he doesn’t come back with a cartful and dump it before you, a jackpot of instant retrieval. He finds one thing, which reminds him of another, which leads him off to the annex, which directs him to the east wing, which sends him back two tiers from where he started.

Wallace Stegner, ‘The Spectator Bird’.

I did expect Stegner’s writing to be good.

I just hadn’t expected how good and how much I would love it.

And oh, my memory is definitely closer to that of a Japanese library than a computer! :p

Posted on June 17, 2024June 17, 2024 by michelle

On Dust….

Dear friend,

It is not that I don’t like being clean, it is just that I’m drawn to dust. Dust comes from something. It shows something has happened, shows what has been disturbed or changed in the world. It marks time.

Edmund de Waal, ‘Letters to Camondo‘.

About time this little blog gets some dusting done.

I like how John Rewald puts it:

… a dust that was not the result of negligence and untidiness but of patience, a witness to complete peace… The dust that covered them was like a mantle of nobility…

While the time that has passed since the last post here has been nowhere near complete peace, I still like to think/ imagine that Rewald’s words can be said of this space.

That it’s not the result of negligence but somewhat, of patience and a witness to time passing.

Posted on March 26, 2024 by michelle · 2 Comments

What came in……

I love reading letters…. even if they are not mine! :p And it doesn’t hurt that they come in such pretty, handy editions.

I have just finally managed to finished Wolf Hall (after what was probably my third or fourth attempt in the last 6 years). The book is definitely not the one to be blamed for the past failed attempts, it was all my bad for being so easily distracted and lured away by other reads…..

So this time, with the help from the audiobook (and Ben Miles’ excellent performance!), we managed a home run! 🙂

Wolf Hall is certainly worthy of its place on the mantelpiece, that much I can say.

I look forward to reading more of Mantel’s work, and having her Mantel Pieces added to the shelves at this time is just one step in the right direction, I think.

Coming across the Thomas Travisano’s take on Elizabeth Bishop’s ‘life and worlds‘ was an unexpected but very much welcomed discovery. I have always had a fascination with Bishop ever since falling in love with her poem One Art. And from the opening pages I’ve started reading so far, this looks to be really promising.

Didn’t expect to be buying books again so soon, but these came with very attractive discounts and so there wasn’t any need for much struggle. :p