The literature of the past sometimes appears to have a language of its own, perhaps too intricate and opaque for us in the twenty-first century. Can it speak to me? Is it relevant? Could reading Renaissance texts be simply self-indulgent, nothing more than an escape from the miseries of our contemporary world?
But reading poems by Wyatt or Donne, visiting the fictional island of Utopia, witnessing pirate actions on the shores of Brazil or touring a mysterious castle in The Faerie Queene, we immediately realize we have walked into a world that is strangely familiar, yet disturbingly new. And it’s not just the words on the page – our journey to the Renaissance involves digging up booty: everyday objects, museum items, prints, paintings. The world of objects surviving from the past, be they mundane or works of art, tells us even more about our common glories and miseries and how life was lived by people like us in another time.
Exploring the English Renaissance can make us tourists: we get the chance to visit the exotic from the comfort of the printed page or images on a screen. What we discover is a period of intense experimentation, exploration and feverish creativity, but also of disease, violence and abuse of power. It can be unsettling and inspiring in equal measure. We return from this trip with at least one souvenir: the feeling that words and objects create disturbing synergies across time, offering opportunities to find ourselves where we least expect. They tell the story of who we were, who we are and where we might be heading.
Our latest newsletter is out now, with new studies, last chances to book, and news of a TV documentary on mental health featuring contributions from Salonista Dympna Cunnane, CEO of the charity Our Time.
The May LitSalon Challenge is now live. This month’s prose read is Zora Neale Hurston’s wonderful novel Their Eyes Were Watching God, while our poetry choice for May is Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18.
It is truly one of life’s great experiences to be in a beautiful place, with a group of adventurous and stretchy readers, immersed for a week in a complex book (Henry James’ The Portrait of a Lady) that drives us to consider closely our own identity, relationship to history, cultural context, social relationships, familial inheritance . . .
Our insights into the challenges facing Isabel Archer, her enclosure in tradition and the interior maps she must negotiate to claim agency in a claustrophobic space, reflected back upon us all and inspired each of us. Some responded with creative writing, some with nuggets shared in discussion. For others the illuminations are held within, to carry back home and keep turning over.
Jackie Seigler and I worked to find the right balance of yoga and study sessions while leaving time for reflection, walking and adventuring in the golden landscapes of Umbria. There were food adventures to be had, wine-tastings, underground caves to crawl through and lakes to discover and dip into. Back in London, I feel my body strengthened with the careful attention of the yoga and my mind calmed with the wonderful focus of the discussions around the complex art of Henry James. I learned from every member of the group – Salonistas from Paris, London, Bristol, New York City, Upstate New York, some who have been with the Salon since its early days, a few experiencing the Salon for the first time. Thank you all for making this adventure so inspiring!
Some feedback from participants:
Location: ‘Really beautiful and welcoming. Just the right balance of comfort and simplicity.’
Food: ‘Very good! Appreciated the many varieties of greens. A bit more pasta perhaps . . .’
Schedule: ‘Nicely paced. I could not routinely find my way to yoga twice a day but was really happy that the possibility was there when I did. Really enjoyed the afternoons at leisure too.’
Cost: ‘Good value for money.’
Yoga: ‘Really enjoyed the restorative and gentle yoga classes. Jackie, your warmth, joy and expertise is in my cells after this retreat.’
‘I found everything about the yoga just right. I felt really held and taken care of in the sessions. I particularly liked the restorative yoga and yoga nidra.’
Salon: ‘Toby, difficult to put into words the depth of the experience. I appreciated so much the slow read of a well-chosen classic and how it gave meaning to my own life in new ways. So good to read closely and in the process become closer to such thoughtful people.’
Overall: ‘Thank you both for all you did and are. I am renewed, recharged and changed after these seven very special days. See you in September.’
‘You both held the group beautifully . . . just the right balance. You were both really kind, sensitive, attentive and inclusive. It made for a great group experience . . . Only suggestion is to get people to read the book completely!’
‘This was a rich and revivifying experience – physically because of the wonderful yoga, and spiritually and intellectually through our collective reading of one of the great 19th century novels. The opportunity to drop into a book, deep below the surface, with a group of open-minded, intelligent, sensitive readers – and to stay there for a week, under expert and self-effacing leadership – is a great privilege. That privilege was enhanced by first-class yoga teaching which kept us grounded, and physically well-tuned.’
And finally, a poetic reflection from our creative writing facilitator Alison Cable:
On reading Portrait of a Lady with LitSalon in Umbria
Where am I positioned as reader
Of words, characters, people?
I am invited to slow down--
I experience others.
Words, characters, people,
When our systems crack, what are we left with?
I experience others--
Half-closed eyelids, a full moon.
When our systems crack, what are we left with?
It was an act of devotion to conceal her misery.
Half-closed eyelids, full moon--
Epiphany, expansion.
It was an act of devotion to conceal her misery.
Where am I positioned?
Epiphany, expansion—
I experience others.
Alison Cable, April 2022
In a recent newsflash I shared some resources in response to the Ukrainian crisis. Thanks to all who followed up, and for the thoughts and actions you have taken. As you know, the news of unrelenting attacks on the Ukrainian people is horrific, as are Putin’s twists of logic in attempting to justify invasion.
Since writing that, I have had feedback from some people in the Salon community that has helped me to expand my understanding and grasp the complexity of the situation, as well as the potential for blind spots and accidental omissions in describing such terrible events.
First, one Salonista who is from Russia and has relatives in Ukraine called me to account:
“Please, please do not say Russian invasion and Russian aggression, it is not! It is the Putin’s regime aggression and his and his clique’s invasion. Russia and the Russian people have never agreed to that. It is not done in my name and not in the name of other millions of Russians.”
She is right, and I apologise. Although the circumstances were somewhat different, as an American I was aghast at the destruction that was wreaked when the USA invaded Iraq; I demonstrated against this invasion and sought to disassociate myself from the military action of the US government. The bravery of the Russian people who are now speaking out against Putin is astonishing and thanks to MG for helping me shift my language.
I also had this feedback from another Salonista:
“. . . I feel terribly upset seeing the suffering of the ordinary people of Ukraine and up to yesterday I supported Ukraine against Russia.
Sadly, reports are coming out about shocking racist practices being used by Ukrainian authorities against Black people, mainly students, and Indians trying to flee Ukraine. It is not widely reported but there are testimonials in the Independent, ITV, Twitter (#AfricansinUkraine) and the Black press . . .
I have written to the BBC to ask why reporters are not questioning Ukrainian spokespeople about these allegations.
I have donated to crowdfunding for African students trying to flee . . .”
Since SA pointed this out to me, I have found various articles that have exposed these racist practices and there has been increased reporting. I want to express outrage and compassion for the Ukrainian people under attack, as well as the African nationals and Black refugees who are being discriminated against in their struggle to escape the war. This opinion piece by Daniel Howden also considers the varying responses to refugees and offers hope that the current crisis will result in an expanded empathic response to refugees from all conflict zones.
In a recent discussion in a Proust study, we were examining the crash of the Union Générale in 1882 and how this shifted financial power in France before being used to support antisemitic myths about the power of Jewish bankers. As these myths repeat themselves even today (to the extent that one current French politician has proposed reconsidering the exoneration of Dreyfus, more than a century after his unjust and tortured incarceration), I found the research undertaken by study members to help understand how the Jewish bankers were scapegoated in the rising fury of antisemitism enlightening. In the process, I also learned that the form ‘anti-Semitism’ is no longer favoured and have updated my usage accordingly.
I appreciate how both in the studies and beyond, we have worked together to become more thoughtful about how language – a powerful and subtle tool – is used.
And finally, we have been asked to raise awareness of Packed with Hope, an initiative providing age-appropriate storybooks and a variety of comforting items (from hot water bottles to colouring pencils and notepads) to the many children caught up in the terror of being uprooted from their homes, family and friends in Ukraine. Please take a look and donate if you can.
Some years ago, we were told about the great work Kate Slotover and Laura Potter were doing in opening up literature to readers everywhere. Laura and Kate founded The Book Club Review Podcast – an energetic discussion about what to read and how different readers may respond. In their words:
“We founded The Book Club Review Podcast to turn the solitary act of reading into a shared experience.
Loved the book? Loathed it? So much the better. We’re all about big opinions. We live for the great debate, the heated discussion, the ‘I see what you’re saying, but here’s why you’re wrong’ rant. With good humour. With respect. But with commitment too. Because the world has forgotten that disagreement is good for us. That it’s the friction of debate that sparks off new ideas, new perspectives – just like a good book. Bring the two together and there’s really nothing better.”
We are great admirers of their work which, as you can see, dovetails beautifully with the energy of exploration we generate in the Salon, so I was happy to spend a delicious February evening discussing doorstoppers – and WHY read them – with Laura, Kate and Phil Chaffee in the latest episode of the podcast.
The result is recommended listening for anyone who is either enjoying or feeling daunted by the ‘big’ books featured in Salon studies. If you like what you hear, take a look at previous episodes (including their 2019 interview with me about what the London Literary Salon does) and subscribe to the podcast newsletter to be alerted to new ones.
We’re all writers. Take a moment and think about the writing you do each day — a caption for your Instagram photo, a text to a friend, a work e-mail. See, you’re already writing to tell stories, build relationships, and plan your future.
Expressive writing helps you channel what you already know how to do. You have permission to discard the rules, play with words, and discover new and powerful insights through its imaginative process. And it’s good for you, like yoga for your mind. In fact, a robust body of peer-reviewed research proves it (benefits like enhancing mood and improving physical health, setting life goals, reducing PTSD symptoms, easing stress, and sparking creativity).
And what better way to spark our writing than reading poetry out loud together? First we hear it – its tempo, rhythm and cadences; then we see it – its images in the mind’s eye; finally we sense its possible meanings – metaphors full of delicious ambiguity. We don’t need to come to any conclusions as long as something stirs within us.
Whatever we discover through our reading and writing, sharing it with others is to engage, to connect, to be heard, and to hear. We loiter in the gaps as well. There’s no perfect communication, but as we linger in each other’s metaphors, in the meaning we make between the words, we share connection. This sharing makes us feel better. We know we are not alone.
Alison Cable is a facilitator at the London Literary Salon, she is currently leading a series of Writing for Wellbeing studies, including Trees and Us beginning on 26 April.
Toby appeared on BBC Radio 4’s Start the Week yesterday (Monday 10 January), discussing ‘finding consolation and community in literature’ with Michael Ignatieff, Christopher Prendergast (editor of the Penguin Modern Classics In Search of Lost Time) and Tom Sutcliffe. This is available from our Press & Media page, together with recordings of Toby talking about the LitSalon Challenge on both BBC Radio London and Times Radio.
On the subject of our online presence, Start the Week generated so much internet traffic that our website crashed. We were thrilled to encounter so much enthusiasm, but we apologise to anyone who had difficulty accessing the website yesterday and thank you for your patience. We’re pleased to say that normal service has now resumed.
Colmar Painter – Running Warrior, Walters Art Museum
There is a rare opportunity to join Mark Cwik’s ongoing Iliad Unhurried study on Wednesday afternoons. The current subscription covers twelve weeks starting with book 5 (of 24). There are two places available and you are welcome to join at any point in the cycle, but the first meeting is today, Wednesday 5 January, at 2.00pm GMT!
More studies will be listed soon, including new travel opportunities and Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night with Jane Wymark. We’ll be sending out another newsletter later this month to keep you up-to-date.
Meanwhile, there is media news: Toby will be a guest on BBC Radio 4’s Start the Week next Monday, 10 January, discussing Finding consolation and community in reading with Michael Ignatieff, Christopher Prendergast and Tom Sutcliffe
The LitSalon Challenge is gathering momentum, do share details with anyone you think might be interested. You can hear Toby talking about it live with Robert Elms on BBC Radio London this Sunday morning, 9 January, and in her interview with Hugo Rifkind on Times Radio last month.
This has been such a strange year . . . but, thanks to so many of you, it has been a year of discovery and development for the Salon community. I hope others have found – as I have – the studies to provide some ballast in this unstable time.
There is the frenetic energy of the moments in the Salon when we build upon each other’s ideas, questions, struggles, to come (unexpectedly, with a whoosh of pleasure) to textured reading that resonates with each of us, and with the text. In those moments, the loud world hums around us, briefly, with rhythm instead of dissonance. And, in spite of the divided Zoom frame, I feel connected to a global gathering of hungry minds.
But the Salon has also given me the enduring gift of apt words, deeply witty aphorisms and lyrical phrasings shared between the Salonistas embedded in a particular work. The photo above is an example: all of those cards are Joyce-connected, the postcard from Gibraltar (combining Proust AND Joyce in an involuntary memory connecting fragrance and literary references), a seascape with a vision towards Sandymount, Dylan – grandson of two dedicated Joyceans – preparing for his life-long reading, a Yulysses greeting from a Wakian with this Joyce (Ithaca) quote:
“May this Yuletide bring to thee
Joy and peace and welcome glee”
The winter solstice is a time when I am reminded to stop fighting the dark and hard moments, and instead to make room. To find a space of quiet and reflection, to be mindful of the struggle of others in this hard, hard time, to be present even as the world swirls. And in the gift of poetry, I find words that help me hold the dark:
Quiet friend who has come so far,
feel how your breathing makes more space around you.
Let this darkness be a bell tower
and you the bell. As you ring,
what batters you becomes your strength.
Move back and forth into the change.
What is it like, such intensity of pain?
If the drink is bitter, turn yourself to wine.
In this uncontainable night,
be the mystery at the crossroads of your senses,
the meaning discovered there.
And if the world has ceased to hear you,
say to the silent earth: I flow.
To the rushing water, speak: I am.
Rainer Maria Rilke, Sonnets to Orpheus II, 29
And finally, some Joyce trivia: from a 2022 Ulyssian:
Q. What have Sir Richard Rogers (recently departed architect of the Pompidou Centre, Lloyds Building et al) have in common with Mr Joyce?
A. Mr Joyce taught English to Richard Roger’s mother, Dada, when he was in Trieste.
Who knew?
Have a peaceful, happy and healthy time and look forward to catching up in 2022.
P.S. If you haven’t already seen our new LitSalon Challenge it’s free to join and please pass it on to anyone who you think might be interested. You can hear me talking about it on Times Radio here (about 2 hours 25 minutes into the programme, although be warned that it can take quite a long time to load).
