Daniel Gray

Scribbles in the Margins

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We lead increasingly time-poor lifestyles, bombarded 24/7 by petrifying news bulletins, internet trolls and endless noises. Where has the joy and relaxation gone from our daily lives? Scribbles in the Margins offers a glorious antidote to that relentless modern-day information churn. It is here to remind you that books and bookshops can still sing to your heart. Warm, heartfelt and witty, here are fifty short essays of prose poetry dedicated to the simple joy to be found in reading and the rituals around it. These are not wallowing nostalgia; they are things that remain pleasurable and right, that warm our hearts and connect us to books, to reading and to other readers: smells of books, old or new; losing an afternoon organising bookshelves; libraries; watching a child learn to read; reading in bed; impromptu bookmarks; visiting someone's home and inspecting the bookshelves; stains and other reminders of where and when you read a book.An attempt to fondly weigh up what makes a book so much more than paper and ink – and reading so much more than a hobby, a way of passing time or a learning process – these declarations of love demonstrate what books and reading mean to us as individuals, and the cherished part they play in our lives, from the vivid greens and purples of childhood books to the dusty comfort novels we turn to in times of adult flux. Scribbles in the Margins is a love-letter to books and bookshops, rejoicing in the many universal and sometimes odd little ways that reading and the rituals around reading make us happy.
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86 printed pages
Publication year
2017
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  • Isashared an impression2 years ago
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Quotes

  • Isahas quoted2 years ago
    its own, an old bus ticket is litter. Inside a book, it is a connection.
    Such smears, smudges and ephemera bring a book back to you, and become a dateless, unintended diary entry. Page becomes time and place.
  • Isahas quoted2 years ago
    Books never really end. They stay with you, good or bad, and can float into your mind quite without warning. Years later, the faint embers of a line drift across your conscience or a place you have visited only in print flickers by. The name of a character whirls around the brain like that of a primary-school classmate. Books take root. A book alters you, only in a minor way and sometimes fleetingly, but you’re never completely the same when you’ve finished as you were on page one.
  • Isahas quoted2 years ago
    Begin reading and you are transported, despite being bedridden in a day soon to close. You end it by saying goodbye and sinking into another universe. Of course, reading books should always be like this, but all is enriched in the thick quiet before midnight.
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