Mourning the loss of an extrordinary writer
It is always a cause of sadness to hear of an untimely death, and somewhat poignant too when it involves someone of talent. So when I heard that Jan Mark had died at only 62, I did a little research on her life and her life’s work. I read what I considered an extraordinary and somewhat unsettling book a couple of years ago, Eclipse of the Century, but it intrigued me that this was an author of quite considerable imagination to have been able to write it.
Now I have discovered an article she wrote that encapsulates so exactly what I feel about books and the discovery of certain books and the way bibliophiles love to clasp certain books to their chests with that look that says, “Mine!”, or how there’s that spark of excitement when you find someone else who shares your enthusiasm for a certain author, or how you don’t want some books to end because the experience of being immersed in it is just so precious and delicious. And it is all so different from the run-of-the-mill kind of book that somehow, even though it is immensely popular, just doesn’t enthrall or captivate in quite the same way (or maybe it does that for some people but its appeal just doesn’t work for others).
So I identify with the sentiment when she says, “Certainly everyone ought to be able to read but most people are not going to become voracious bookworms who need regular fixes of print and who so enjoy the experience of reading that they actively seek novelty and challenge rather that safety and swift satisfaction. For that minority casual observance will never be enough especially if we, the adults, are the observers. I sometimes feel like hanging out a sign: I read books so you don’t have to, but nothing, even now, compares to the excitement of discovering that gramme of radium in tonnes of pitchblende, the same excitement I felt as a child on finding a book that was surely meant for me, not 50,000 others.”
(see the full article here
Read obituaries at The Times or this one from the Guardian
Now I have discovered an article she wrote that encapsulates so exactly what I feel about books and the discovery of certain books and the way bibliophiles love to clasp certain books to their chests with that look that says, “Mine!”, or how there’s that spark of excitement when you find someone else who shares your enthusiasm for a certain author, or how you don’t want some books to end because the experience of being immersed in it is just so precious and delicious. And it is all so different from the run-of-the-mill kind of book that somehow, even though it is immensely popular, just doesn’t enthrall or captivate in quite the same way (or maybe it does that for some people but its appeal just doesn’t work for others).
So I identify with the sentiment when she says, “Certainly everyone ought to be able to read but most people are not going to become voracious bookworms who need regular fixes of print and who so enjoy the experience of reading that they actively seek novelty and challenge rather that safety and swift satisfaction. For that minority casual observance will never be enough especially if we, the adults, are the observers. I sometimes feel like hanging out a sign: I read books so you don’t have to, but nothing, even now, compares to the excitement of discovering that gramme of radium in tonnes of pitchblende, the same excitement I felt as a child on finding a book that was surely meant for me, not 50,000 others.”
(see the full article here
Read obituaries at The Times or this one from the Guardian
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