Desert Island Books

Marooned on a desert island, what would you do with your time? 

This week on the blog we’re discussing Desert Island Books, our own little take on the longest running factual radio show of all time.
You already know the format- 8 musical recordings, a book, the works of Shakespeare, a bible or other philosophical text and a luxury item. No people unless you’re John Cleese taking a stuffed Palin (although I believe he plans to visit the island for a travel show so you could chance it that he’ll stop in). I’m flipping it and losing the tunes (and please note, that is how you spell lose, there is no untightening to do) in place of books. Here are my choices.

The Scouting Book for Boys
Baden Powell may be the source of all evil for some kids. For me, the chance to explore, escape and learn for myself was invaluable. The book that started a movement will come in useful whilst stranded on an island. Dib dib dib.

The Rattle Bag
I must have spent half an hour trying to decide amongst my poetry anthologies. It was a toss up between this and ‘The 20^th Century in Poetry’ and finally I decided the variety is slightly better in this collection, gathered up by masters of verse Heaney and Hughes.

The Works of Dickens
This is not cheating. I simply couldn’t decide having read (gasp) none of these texts all the way through. Always love the adaptations, never have time to dig out the classics. I could start by buying this book, just in time to read the Christmas Stories.

Concrete Island
JG Ballard’s novel strands an exec in the space between two motorway segments. Since studying this for A level, it is one of those books I like to read from time to time- if just because I know it well enough to pick up and put down again. I’m easily distracted. Note: Read alongside The Tempest (from the Shakespeare you get automatically, remember).

Heart of Darkness
The Horror. The Horror.
Okay, so this isn’t exactly Marlon Brando in Apocalypse Now but as the original, it stands on its own merits. It seems ridiculous to think Conrad was writing in his second language much more eloquently than most muster in their first. Even a two month stint in analysing the lexemes out of this can’t destroy my love of this novel.

Enduring Love
Probably not McEwan’s best, (Atonement) but with one of the most spectacular openings I can remember and a love triangle involving a gay, religious, stalker, it is hard to not like this book. Gripping, smart and original, I defy you to forget Jed once you’ve read it. For sheer memorability, I’m putting it in. (PS My mother hates this book but would probably take Discworld books with her- enough said).

A big Spanish and English Dictionary
I’m a poet. I want the dictionary for words. I fancy learning Spanish whilst I’m sat there. I’m a curious mind, what else can I say.

The Notebook of Shaun Brookes

I’ll need somewhere to write my new ideas and poems down, won’t I? Wishful thinking that this counts as a book or practicality in preserving a luxury item choice? You decide.

Musical choice:  Piano Sonata in B minor, Liszt.

This may sound surprising but I’ve recently started listening to classical music again. I find it is helpful as background and to pick one favourite out was tricky. Lang Lang closed his Waterfront Stage set at Latitude with this, on what was one of the most relaxing and perfect concerts I have ever experienced. Every day is a Sunday lunchtime slot on an island right, so kick back whilst some genius plays piano.  

Luxury Item: A lighter/ Magnesium rod if available.

I might have been a boy scout but rubbing sticks in a storm isn't my cup of nettle tea. Technology to the rescue. 

The Desert Island Books today were chosen by Shaun, who is surprised about how much 8 books can reveal about a person.

Thanks for reading, S. 

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4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42

By Ashley Lister

SPOILER ALERT. DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVE ANY INTENTION OF WATCHING THE TV SERIES LOST. I GIVE MY INTERPRETATION OF THE ENDING HERE AND I DON’T WANT TO SPOIL IT FOR ANYONE. SPOILING THE SERIES WAS THE JOB OF THE WRITERS.

I could do it. I could do the desert island thing. And I wouldn’t need those eight records that everyone else wants to take to a desert island. I would just need the following:

1) Broadband. How the hell am I expected to blog each week without a broadband connection? I don’t mind if I have to lose my mobile. If I’ve got my mobile logic dictates I’d feel obligated to phone the emergency services and say, ‘Help, I’m stranded on a desert island.’ But, if I have a PC with a broadband connection and an active email address I don’t think I’d feel that need to call for assistance.

2) Microsoft Word. I’m a writer. This is one of the essential things a writer needs.

3) Alcohol. I’m a writer. This is one of the essential things a writer needs.

4) Chocolate. I’m a writer. This is one of the essential things a writer needs.

5) The companionship of the writers of the TV series Lost – so I could maybe eat them when the food ran out.

I mention the writers of the TV series Lost because that was one piece of fiction that I thought was brilliant – right up to the crushing disappointment of the final episode.

The episodes were beautifully written and well-acted and the scenery was to die for. The lovely Barbara Thomas (a previous guest blogger here) introduced me to Lost. She and her husband Jim discussed the myriad possibilities of the Lost-universe and encouraged me to venture my own theory as to what was happening.

I said I thought it was a metaphor for purgatory. The characters were waiting to move onto heaven or hell, depending on where they belonged.

I was assured by several knowledgeable people that variations on my theory had been suggested on many online forums, where it had been dismissed as being too clichéd. Particle Physics was more heavily favoured. Multiverse theories were bandied around and strongly supported. Adam McCance (another previous guest blogger here) said it was all Hurley’s dream.

Guess what happened in the final episode. Can you guess? I’ll give you a clue: I was right. I’d been right since the first f***ing episode.

So, because I was lured into watching six seasons of this series to suffer the disappointment of an unsatisfactory ending, I’d want to take the writers of Lost with me. However, in retrospect, I might not eat them. I’d be worried it would leave a nasty taste in my mouth.

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Desert Islands.

Good morning readers and welcome to what I feel could be an excellent week on the DGPS blog. With the BBC's Desert Island Discs celebrating 70 years on the airwaves this week, what better theme to start us off on our musings than Desert Islands themselves.

The thought of an island excites me. It scares me. It brings with it all sorts of adventures, perils and, as a vegan, I suppose some difficult choices. That said, it could also be quite relaxed should I drop amongst a coconut plantation- which is a little like I felt on Thursday night.

I want to add my name to the list of people singing praises. I thought the whole event was great (well done again to all at WordSoup- always guaranteed a good night) and actually getting to be on a poster excited some demonic part of me, I must say. I was worried though- I was on the island, waking Lost-style from the crash. First up from us had me a bit jittery but there, just past the light was a table full of coconuts. There has been some good stuff coming out of the group lately and to be amongst the tenders of such a fruitful plantation was a comfort at the least.

This moves me on to what I actually thought I should write about this week. The Island idea appeals to me as a boy scout (and after an afternoon thinking, I suspect The Scouting Book for Boys may be of more use to me than a poetry anthology) and one thing I found during my years there was how to be amongst friends- look out for one another and that is something that I like to think has stayed with me.#

I've been the unwitting receiver of various strange and unexpected news recently. There has been all kinds of madness and I wonder, as a writer, what is appropriate to take forward into new work. There is a clear line in my head but in the same way so many useful things are passed on and stay with you forever (how to hold a spade etc), surely they will stick around- perhaps surface somewhere in a muddled metaphor or character. This must be an issue for many writers and it is certainly something that I find needs to be considered with regards to more personal poetry. A line can find itself in the wrong mouth, stuttering with rage and completely out of context. A bit like the suggestions somebody might be pregnant following a poem I performed recently- and that was bloody me reading it!

Going back to the birthday mention, a quick search tells me I would automatically get a copy of the Bible (or alternative) so some soul searching could probably go on. I might pick a different book, learn a new culture completely on my own... I'd probably do what many of us would do- think about home, the past, the things in life we have and do hold dear. I wouldn't need 8 records. I would take them. A collection of festival/occasional/thoughtful songs that could be any 8 from a hundred. I would spend a lot of time listening to the things inside my head though- the voices I have carried with me. Advice, friends laughing, brothers, mothers, teachers, fathers, grandfathers... the voices in my head that are pushing for a poem and are better left to Caliban in Shakespeare's The Tempest (III 2.133-134)
"The isle is full of noises,
sounds and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not."

Thanks for reading,
S.

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