The Sunday Salon – in Egypt with Nefertiti

I started to read Nefertiti by Michelle Moran a bit ago and just in the last few days have picked it up again. Nefertiti is most irritating – insufferably self-confident, arrogant, demanding, lusting after power, manipulative, superior, full of her own self-importance and well, beautiful; just as you would expect her to be, a jealous selfish queen. I’m about half way through the book now and am enjoying it despite my dislike for Nefertiti, maybe she’ll become more likeable but I doubt it. As I read, ancient Egypt comes to life as Moran describes the building of the new city of Amarna, which Nefertiti boasted:

… would be a city unlike anything that had ever come before it, a jewel on the east bank of the Nile, that would write our family’s name in eternity. ‘When future generations speak of Amarna’, she vowed,’they will speak of Nefertiti and Ahkenaten the Builder.’

She was right, all these centuries later we are still fascinated with Nefertiti and this period of the 18th Dynasty. But I am more fascinated by her sister as described in this novel. I hadn’t heard of Mutnodjmet (Mutny) before, but she is presented as a much more likeable character. Younger than Nefertiti, and with a different mother, she is at first swept along as Nefertiti is chosen to marry Amunhotep, the young Prince of Egypt. However, she longs for a life of her own, with the man of her choice, Nakhtmin, a general in the army and worst of all a “commoner”. When Mutny becomes pregnant Nefertiti and Akhenaten (as he re-named himself when he renounced the god Amun in favour of Aten), by then rulers of the whole of Egypt, will not accept this, banishing Nakhtmin to fight the Hittites, and bringing about Mutny’s miscarriage. This is as far as I have read – it looks as though an immense struggle between the sisters is about to explode.

private livesReading Nefertiti reminded me of another book on Egypt: The Private Lives of the Pharoahs by Dr Joyce Tyldesley, which I bought a few years ago, only for it to sit unread on the bookshelves, until now. This book looks at the pyramids, how and why they were built; why the 18th Dynasty died out; and who was the boy-pharoah Tutankhamun. I’ve only dipped into this book so far, but it promises much and has a Further Reading section with yet more books to look out for. I see on Amazon that Tyldesley has also written, amongst many other books, Nefertiti:Egypt’s Sun-Queen . I really must read this as well.

I think I may stay in ancient Egypt for a while.

Library Memories

It’s been a few weeks since I last wrote a Booking Through Thursday post and I was wondering what today’s question would be. It was quite a surprise to see that it was one I’d suggested!

What is your earliest memory of a library? Who took you? Do you have you any funny/odd memories of the library?

Deb added: Whether you usually read off of your own book pile or from the library shelves NOW, chances are you started off with trips to the library. (There’s no way my parents could otherwise have kept up with my book habit when I was 10.) 

So here are my answers. Like Deb there was no way my parents could keep up with my reading habits or their own for that matter without using the library. My love of stories comes from them as my father always read me a bedtime story and would make up stories of his own to tell me. My mother always had a book on the go and I remember she took me to the local branch library, which was a small library with both children’s and adults’ books all in one room. This was before I started school, but according to my parents I could read by myself then. I have many happy memories of using and working in many libraries since then.

The first library book I remember was about Teddy Robinson and I was so upset when Mum said I had to return it, until she explained that I could then take out another book. There’s been no stopping me since. When I got older every Saturday morning we went to the main library in the town, a bus ride away. This was a much bigger library with separate rooms for the children’s and the adults’ books, a reference library, a reading room downstairs and an art gallery upstairs. The library was always very well used – I remember queuing waiting for the library to open at 10am. In those days you could only borrow 4 books, I think. When I was 12 I was old enough to borrow books from the adult library and felt very grown up.

Not surprisingly, perhaps I decided to be a librarian and went to Library School in Manchester for a two-year course and then worked in the Central Library of Manchester Public Libraries. I loved it, apart from the unsociable hours, that is. That library was open Monday to Saturday from 9am to 9pm and I had to work three Saturdays out of four and two late nights a week. Even in the 1970s library funds were being cut, first the book fund was cut and then the opening hours were gradually reduced. I didn’t agree with cutting the book fund but the reduction in the opening hours was welcome.

Before I went to Library School I’d worked for a few months in a small branch library on the outskirts of Manchester. There were two librarians and one assistant plus me as a student and between us we looked after two small branches, one of which was in a static caravan. The caravan was a more interesting library to work in; it was much more informal as it was usually me and the assistant, who was more my age than the two librarians who were near retiring age and were very formal (they never called me by my first name). As I remember it we laughed a lot and were entertained by the lady who cleaned the caravan, whose son had emigrated to Australia and sent her long, amazingly detailed letters about his adventures, something about opal mining, I think, in New South Wales. She had a new instalment, which she read out to us before we opened the library – we should have been straightening the books but listening to her letters was much more interesting.

After I qualified I first worked in the Local History and Jewish Library – they were in adjoining rooms with the library desk in between the two. The Jewish Library was mainly used by school children and a small number of regular readers who used to come and help themselves to the books without any help from us, which was just as well as most of the books were in Hebrew. My involvement in the Jewish Library was to take cuttings out of the Jewish newspapers and as I worked there during the Six Days War that kept me busy. I also looked at the books on the Holocaust, which appalled me – I’d really had no idea of the horror of the atrocities that had been carried out in the concentration camps.

The Local History Library was very different and was used by school children, students, and researchers into family history, social history and house history. I looked after the large photographic and print collections covering Cheshire as well as Manchester, its suburbs and the rest of Lancashire. I particularly remember cataloguing a considerable collection of postcards that had been deposited in the Library by one family. There were postcards sent by and to the numerous children in the family covering the period (I think) from the 1920s to the 1940s.

Along with the good memories there were inevitably a couple of unpleasant incidents that happened whilst I was working at the library. These didn’t happen to me but to library users. One was in the Local History Library on a late shift, when a girl came running up to me saying that a man had flashed at her behind the bookshelves at the far end of the library. The man ran out and was caught by the porter. The other incident was when I had moved to the Cataloguing Department and was working in the main Catalogue Hall, when some girls spotted a young man, ostensibly checking the lower bookshelves – but he held a small mirror in his hand and was using it to look up the girls’ skirts. Again the porters came to the rescue.

There was a weekly meeting where the heads of each department met with the Chief Librarian to decide which books to buy and as I was a Sub-Librarian there were times when I had to stand in for the Local History Librarian at the meetings. It was terrifying – they were all so much older and more senior than me and the Chief Librarian was particularly scary – he didn’t suffer fools gladly! I was amazed when they actually listened to me and accepted my opinion on which books to buy. It certainly boosted my confidence. In fact working in the library was a huge confidence-building experience. Every so often we conducted tours of the library telling people what was available in each department which meant that I had to know what went on in each one. I struggled with the schoolchildren who were only there because their teachers had made them come -most of them weren’t interested and just used to giggle. But I loved showing the pre-retirement people round the library as they were so surprised that there was so much available and so interested in it all.

This must be one of the longest posts I’ve written and I’ve only scratched the surface of my memories. There were many happy times, working with books and people who love books. I loved working in each part of the library, meeting people, answering questions and finding books for them. The only drawback was that there was very little time to actually read the books or do any research myself.

Pompeii by Robert Harris

Pompeii

Recently I’ve been going from book to book and not finishing any of them, apart from Pompeii by Richard Harris. If you’ve read my recent posts you’ll maybe understand why I’ve been unable to concentrate on reading, but even if the words have not been making much sense as I read them I find the actual process of picking up a book, turning the pages and reading the words to be therapeutic.

Somehow Pompeii made more sense than any of the other books I looked at these last few weeks. For one thing it’s so easy to read and you know the broad outcome right from the start. Vesuvius erupts destroying the town of Pompeii and killing its inhabitants as they tried to flee the pumice, ash and searing heat and flames.

Part of the book’s appeal to me was because I visited Pompeii and had a trip up to the summit of Vesuvius some years ago and so I could picture the location. It was not only Pompeii that was affected – the whole area stretching from the town of Herculaneum in the north of the Bay down to Stabiae in the south suffered from the eruption.

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Vesuvius Crater

The summit of Vesuvius, today looks flat from below and climbing to the top reveals the enormous crater as a result of the eruption.

 

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Frescoes at Pompeii

The remains of luxurious villas with their frescoes can still be seen and most poignantly some of the inhabitants preserved by the ash that killed them.

The story begins just two days before the eruption of Mount Vesuvius and builds up to a climax. Whilst most people are blissfully unaware of what is about to be unleashed upon them one man – the engineer Marius Attilius Primus realises the danger when the aqueduct Aqua Augusta fails to supply water to the people in the nine towns around the Bay of Naples. Attilius realise that the problem lies somewhere to the north of Pompeii, on the slopes of Vesuvius. The tension mounts as he tries to repair the aqueduct and persuade people of the danger, hindered by the disappearance of Exomnius, his predecessor and the disbelief of the town magistrates. The power behind the town officials is the former slave Ampliatus who made his fortune after the last earthquake had devasted Pompeii. Harris gives vivid descriptions of the luxury of the town – its villas and baths – the corruption of its leaders, the poor living conditions of the general population and savage cruelty shown to the slaves. Ampliatus helps Attilius but only under his own terms – to continue the financial arrangement he had with Exomnius.

Interspersed with the story are details of the ingenuity and skill of the Romans in engineering, and of the nature volcanoes. I’m not technically minded but I found this more than interesting and added to my enjoyment of the book. I particularly liked mixture of fictional and historical characters and the inclusion of Pliny, then the Admiral of the Fleet, as he watched and recorded the progress of the eruption and the account of his death. But my favourite character is the hero of the book, Attilius – incorruptible, resourceful, stubborn, determined and an expert at his job. All in all I found the book brought history to life and I could feel the danger and fear as Vesuvius inevitably destroyed Pompeii.

This is Harris’s description of the horror of the impact of the eruption:

Pompeii became a town of perfectly shaped hollow citizens – huddled together or lonely, their clothes blown off or lifted over their heads, hopelessly grasping for their favourite possession or clutching nothing – vacuums supspended in mid-air at the level of their roofs.

This is the only book I’ve read by Robert Harris, but I would like to read more of his, particularly Imperium, again set in Ancient Rome and following the career of Marcus Cicero. I’d also like to read The Last Days of Pompeii, although I suspect I may not like the melodramatic style of this book by Sir Edward Bulwer-Lytton written in 1834, but it would be an interesting comparison.

Thank You

I want to say a very big thank you to all of those of you who expressed your sympathy at the news of my sister’s illness and death. Your thoughts and prayers were and are of great comfort to me. Friday was overwhelmingly sad. The church was full of my sister’s friends and colleagues – so many people expressed their sorrow at her death and their admiration for her love of life, enthusiasm and tireless work in the local community as a District Councillor. She will certainly be missed not only by our family but also by many other people, most of whom are unknown to me as she lived so far away.

Why I’ve Been Away from my Blog

These past few weeks I have been feeling very unreal and immensely sad. I haven’t had much time or inclination to write on my blog. My sister was diagnosed with lung cancer in November last year and despite radiotherapy and chemotherapy the cancer eventually spread  to her brain and she died on 4 August. She had good friends who supported and helped her throughout her illness, but she lived on her own and about 4 hours drive away from me. Although I knew her illness was terminal it was hard to accept that and the suddenness of it all has deeply shocked me. She was very upset and angry about the cancer and fought hard to combat it. Her funeral is on Friday and there is much to sort out. I’ll be back writing some time next week, I hope and although I have been reading in July and August I don’t think I can write much about any of the books I’ve read – much of it is a blur in my mind.

Ermintrude

100 Years of Ermintrude: a Life in 33 Stanzas written by Tom Evans and designed by Jacquetta Trueman is the first e-book I’ve read. When I was asked to review it I thought it sounded interesting and different. It is, but I can’t say that I’d like to read many books like this. However, as it is very short it isn’t difficult.

The four-line stanzas are simple to follow – one to a page and each one illustrated. It’s narrative poetry on a small-scale . We get glimpses of the highs and lows of Ermintrude’s life as the years roll back almost to her conception. Each stanza covers a brief memory of different events – some happy and some sad. I did find myself wishing there was more information about each event, but then maybe that’s how it is when you get to be 100. This is a good example of how to compress a life into a few short verses and still retain an interesting story as the milestones in Trudi/Emintrude’s life come back to her as she reached her 100th birthday.

This little book made me pause for thought.