Girlbooker's Tea and Toast

Now that I have a fancy new corporate job, I’m regularly walking between train and office, and I often listen to a couple of songs along the way. Last week it was The Jackson 5, and I was struck by what an odd experience it is to listen to a young Michael Jackson singing. As an audience, we know so much about the future of that voice’s owner, none of which is known to him. We know about his past as well, more than most people would have known contemporaneously. That voice is a fly trapped in amber, frozen between the weight of knowledge on either side of its timeline. And amber feels like an apt analogy for the sound of that voice too. The texture, the grain, the way it gently rumbles and cracks through sweet lightness. It’s warm and a little rough, with an oh-so-poignant catch to it that belies its youth. Is it the incongruity of the poignancy and the youth what draws us to that voice? I wonder whether people in 1967 could hear that poignancy and whether they recognised it as suc...

I was waiting for a train the other day, and had a sudden flash of happy memory; a book I had read largely on public transport a few weeks earlier popped into my head and I enjoyed a brief moment of enjoying it all over again. (The book in question, in case you’re wondering is The Portable Veblen, one the best books you’ve never heard of, in my humble opinion). So this got me thinking about books and travel.   Are there certain kinds of books that are better suited to reading on the go than others? And if so, what are they? First and most importantly, it’s best to avoid deeply emotional tear-jerker books in public. I’m a big crier, and it really doesn’t take much to set me off so I need to be especially careful, but sometimes it’s just unavoidable. A couple of weeks ago, the woman standing behind me on the train was reading and working her facial muscles like a gymnast in order to hold back the tears. Personally, it just made me want to give her a hug and then become best frie...