There is so much to like about January. The atmosphere of self-reflection, the excuse to be indoors with the candles and fire, the darkness outside, being able to see the moon and stars most perfectly. I spent days hoping for snow, while monitoring nearby river levels in fear of flooding, making sure nothing important was left downstairs. When the snow did fall it didn’t settle around the houses, but lasted a long while up on the hills where the roe deer leap and birds of prey swirl overhead. As well as daily walks, there have been lots of trips to the pubs and cinema, gin & tonics, huge bowls of pasta, scampi fries, sweet and salty popcorn, Chinese takeaways, bottles of red wine. This is not a season for restricting oneself. It makes a wonderful change from inherited obsessions with weight loss, which are still thrust upon us at the start of each year.
One of the joys of my new hometown is that it has a very good bookshop, staffed by people who really care about books. This month I went in to buy a Wallace Stegner and ended up having a lengthy chat with a bookseller who knew many of the same people in publishing as me. We swapped horror stories about the industry, which was surprisingly cathartic. What kept me on social media for so long was in part curiosity (nosiness), but mostly the book recommendations. But we don’t need social media to find out about books. There are booksellers, email lists from indie bookshops, podcasts, libraries and of course, blogs.
Some books I enjoyed this month
Moving to the West Country has been brilliant for my reading, but I won’t share comprehensive reading wrap ups, for reasons I explained here. What I will say is that I am having an excellent time very slowly reading these big history books:
Reformation: Europe's House Divided 1490-1700 by Diarmaid MacCulloch
In Europe: Travels through the Twentieth Century by Geert Mak, translated by Sam Garrett
To break up these big beasts, I read novels and swifter non-fiction. I always have lots of books on the go because what I want to read is entirely dependent on my mood in the moment. Below are some highlights from my January reading, with shoutouts to those who drew them to my attention.
All My Precious Madness by Mark Bowles - a really funny and bold debut novel about a working-class man at odds with the modern world, who finds relief in literature. Sublime prose. I know I will read this again - recommended by Andy Miller on Backlisted.
The Inn at the Edge of the World by Alice Thomas Ellis - five strangers head to a remote Scottish island to escape Christmas. A short novel and a compelling study of loneliness. Also features some excellent stuff about writing a history of General Gordon. Out of print but readily available second-hand - recommended by Simon of Stuck in a Book.
Longbourne by Jo Baker - Pride and Prejudice from the perspective of their servants. You’ll never look at the Bennets in the same way again.
Powsels and Thrums by Alan Garner - appropriately, I read this bundled under blankets very early one dark morning. I’m not a huge Garner fan, I vaguely remember enjoying Weirdstone as a child, but found myself gripped by this. It’s a memoir in essays and stories, and the way he writes about his house and homeland is genuinely moving. A love letter to a life of learning and the joys of research. I read a library copy but want my own now.
Treasured: How Tutankhamun Shaped a Century by Christina Riggs - This is a superb book even if, like me, you have no particular interest in Ancient Egypt. It’s so insightful about the interplay between history, heritage, money, tourism, art, politics and archaeology. I will likely write about this one in more detail at some point because it falls into my favourite sub-genre, when academics take their immense learning and do something creative with it - recommended by Maddy’s Library in an example of the internet at its best. A writer from Pakistan, recommending a book by an American, about Egypt, which found its way to a reader in England, and I ended up noodling around on this great resource too.
Bullshit Jobs: The Rise of Pointless Work, and What We Can Do About It by David Graeber - your job is probably bullshit and could disappear tomorrow with no discernible impact on anything. If you didn’t know this already, read this book. I’ve worked bullshit jobs in the past but never, ever again. This would be great present for your mate who works in PR / marketing / HR / finance / advertising / tech / sales / management and so on - recommended by Amie McNee.
Not just books
There is so little new television that I truly enjoy (not being interested in murder seriously limits your choices), that when I find something I do like, I typically want to make the experience last. However, when I was still recovering from a sickness at the very start of the year I ended up watching the entirety of Only Child on BBC iPlayer in one day. It’s a completely charming sitcom about a minor Scottish actor going home to visit his doddery father, and is frequently laugh out loud funny. If you’re wary of the subject matter, don’t be. It’s not grim at all, but sentimental in the best kind of way.
Sticking with Scotland, on Burns Night I went to my first ever ceilidh. I suggested it to my pals, and we ended up going all together, so I suppose the recommendation here is if you see something you think will be a laugh, make it happen. There is something especially fun about the looseness of a ceilidh, and the sense of instant community it creates. When leaping about with a random partner, it makes so much sense why only a few generations ago this was how couples met. Bring back dances.
If you find yourself in southern Wiltshire, the Salisbury Museum is superb, and if you get an annual membership you also get free entry to Stonehenge, which is an absurdly good deal. You’d only have to go once to make your money back. The collections are excellent and this is absolutely regional history displayed at its best. It does help that the museum is housed in the stunning grade I listed King’s House, which dates back to the 13th century and featured in Hardy’s Jude the Obscure.
Mes petits plaisirs du mois
Living within walking distance of everything. Bookshops, cinemas, pubs, mates.
Closely related, making impromptu plans. Having to schedule dinner with someone months in advance feels like lunacy now.
Deleting social media completely, for the first time since I joined as a child. I do not miss it at all. At no point have I felt like I was missing out, and the desire to buy things, to acquire more stuff, has magically disappeared.
Having cosy feet. The only footwear I wore in January were wellies, snow-boots, slippers and DMs. Bliss.
Reading fat squashy volumes of paperback non-fiction and not being precious about them, just shoving them in my backpack. Makes a nice change from the many hardbacks I’ve accumulated and treated with excessive reverence.
The Socially Distanced Sports Bar podcast. Late to the party, I am working my way through the back catalogue and finding it delightful.
Bringing packed lunches, a flask of tea and a travel mug everywhere.
Lighting. The Christmas lights around town have come down, but not those strung up around the trees beside the cathedral. I kept my own tree up for most of the month, purely because of the fairy lights.
The Radio France app.
Not shopping. I won’t use these notes to recommend objects for you to buy. There is already far too much of that on the internet. I’m doing my utmost to have what the internet calls ‘a no spend year’, namely buying only what I need. This is wise because consumerism is evil, but it is also good for creativity. As Austin Kleon writes in Keep Going: 10 Ways to Stay Creative in Good Times and Bad, as part of a wider discussion about protecting your creativity from capitalism:
Times are always tough economically for artists and freelancers, so define the sort of lifestyle you want to live, budget for your expenses, and draw the line between what you will and won’t do for money.
And remember: If you want maximum artistic freedom, keep your overhead low. A free creative life is not about living within your means, it’s about living below your means.
“Do what you love!” cry the motivational speakers. But I think anybody who tells people to do what they love no matter what should also have to teach a money management course.
“Do what you love” + low overhead = a good life.
“Do what you love” + “I deserve nice things” = a time bomb.
This, if anything, is the lesson of this January. Live simply, carry a flask and wear comfy shoes you can stomp about in. Resist bullshit jobs and resist the lure of more stuff. You really don’t need any more clothes, trinkets or homeware. Next time you feel the urge to buy something you don’t need, why not try reading something instead. You’ll feel better for it, I promise.
