Packing for a late season holiday? Or stuck in the office yearning for the sun-drenched Greek islands? Whichever it is, here are nine books you should consider:
There are authors who captivate you. With their choice of words, their temperament, their ideas, their life story, their way of looking at the world, their… spirit. It’s been a long time since I last had been so captivated as I’ve been this winter; and it’s a good thing that my husband doesn’t read this blog for I’m positively in love. (With a man who’s been dead for some thirty years. Ouch!)
Day 4 Assignment: Bliss
“For me… the sound of the pleasant place is in the waves of the sea. And the smell of it is damp cordage and wood, on a fair morning when the off-shore breeze just carries the scent off the land. And the sight of it is a dolphin breaking clean and shining out of a foam crest – or the curve of a wind-washed sail, at evening, when the sea’s line shines.”
(The Journeying Moon: Sailing into History by Ernle Bradford)
Recently I wrote about how a young Royal Navy sailor in 1941 sauntered into a Greek bar in Alexandria and came out with his head full of the Odyssey. Well, those of you who haven’t read that piece, go and read it now, but I’m willing to remind the rest who have merely forgotten who this sailor was: Ernle Bradford.
Recently – as you might have noticed – I read the introduction to Ulysses Found by Ernle Bradford. (This sort of thing happens when you update your Amazon wish list for Christmas.) Now I’m not into the Odyssey – I’m one of these people who prefer the Iliad. But I’m going to read Ulysses Found (just a subtle hint for family members in case they come passing this way), and maybe, who knows, it might lead onto greater things, like reading the Odyssey in full after all these years. Who knows, I might even end up liking it!
Travelling leads to strange encounters. Especially if you’re committed to speak the language of your destination.
In World War II a young Royal Navy sailor by the name of Ernle Bradford sauntered into a Greek bar in Alexandria and came out brainwashed because he had been imprudent enough to say “Kalimera” to the man behind the counter. A few years ago I went to Delphi and was imprudent enough not only to say “Kalimera” but to follow it up with saying that I hoped to read Herodotus in the original someday.
All avalanches begin with a snowflake.
Chance encounters. And Ulysses found…
Last week I finally managed to finish The Great Sea: A Human History of the Mediterranean by David Abulafia. I had no time to announce this earth shattering fact (it took me nearly a full year to read this book) to the world immediately because I was too busy blogging about Herodotus at the time.
My final verdict can be expressed in two words:
I’m sitting on a rooftop terrace in Valletta, the town founded by and named after Jean Parisot de la Valette, Grand Master of the Knights of St John some 500 years ago. The terrace overlooks the Grand Harbour, and the solid walls of Fort St Angelo across the water are lit up tonight. Beyond it, sprinkled with lights, the towns of Vittoriosa and Invitta, originally called Birgu and Senglea but renamed “Victorious” and “Unconquered” by the Knights after the Turks failed to take them in 1565. I can see the marina in Dockyard Creek whose entrance the Knights closed with a huge chain during the siege. Somewhere to my left, out of sight on the tip of the peninsula that is Valletta, beyond the rooftops, stands Fort St Elmo, whose defenders sacrificed themselves so gallantly in defence of Malta.
Continue reading “The Great Siege: Malta 1565”