Start the week #47
London perambulations, an instalment of a short story, and lots of links
Greetings!
I’ve spent ages putting this together, so I need a cup of tea.
I hope you enjoy reading.
But enough of this persiflage! On with the newsletter.
Terry
More East London explorations — and another bookshop!
Last week I wrote about Brick Lane, but there’s more. Turn right when you come out of the Beigel Bake. Walk towards the Brick Lane Bookshop, and you will encounter this:
You have to admit that’s pretty cool, because look at the trouble somebody went to in order to create and install a completely pointless item of street art. Except that it’s a good conversation starter so maybe that was the point.
Continue walking until you come to Hanbury Street. Hanbury Street used to be dirt poor, and one of the places frequented by Jack the Ripper. You’ll get a good idea of the state of the place from this excerpt from a documentary made in 1965:
Here’s what it looks like now:
Turn left into Hanbury Street and near the end of the street you will come across a bookshop called Libreria.
The great thing about Libreria is that they have tried to facilitate the discovery of books by serendipity. Thus instead of organising it in the usual way — fiction, nonfiction, poetry etc — they’ve organised the shelves by theme. For example, I was once browsing a section about Africa, and amongst the nonfiction I discovered a book of African short stories. It’s a very effective strategy I think.
If the promised delights of Libreria do not appeal, you might turn left rather than right when you emerge from the Beigel Bake, and walk along Shoreditch.
There you will discover some interesting grafitti, as well as a range of pop-up shops.
My instalment of ’s story, Vulpes
Nathan and I decided to write a story in turns, based on the prompt “Maybe we’re not meant to remember dreams”. He wrote 500 words, which you should read first if you have not already done so (click the link on ‘story’ in the heading). Here is my follow-up which, like Nathan’s, is around 500 words long:
Vulpes 2
Subject: NS Report #14.3
When we let ourselves into the subject’s apartment, he was sitting on the floor with a telephone cable around his shoulders. What follows is the transcript of our interrogation.
Officer 1: When we entered your apartment, you were found sitting on the floor with a telephone cable around you. Why?
NS: Why. The eternal question, the epitome of the human condition from time immemorial. Why. Why does anyone do what they do? Is it free will? Have the action and its outcome already been determined? “Why?” is the kind of question to which I have no answer.
Officer 1: According to our recording of the conversation you had with your girlfriend, she said “Just because you don’t remember dreams doesn’t mean we’re not meant to.”
What dreams was she alluding to?
NS: Am I privy to another person’s innermost secrets, their dreams? Are our dreams in wakefulness any more beautiful, any more significant, than those in our somnambulance? I, a human chaos, a nebula of confused elements, I move amongst finished worlds – peoples of complete laws and pure order, whose thoughts are assorted, whose dreams are arranged, and whose visions are enrolled and registered1.
Officer 2: He is speaking in riddles. Let me take over. Why do you speak in riddles? It’s a plain enough question; answer plainly.
NS: I speak in riddles? Do you mean my speech is full of holes2?
Officer 2: This is getting us nowhere. We need to use the prod.
Officer 1: Patience, fellow, patience. Now, Nathan, we’re just here to understand what’s going on. Answer plainly and sensibly and with a bit of luck we’ll all be home in time for tea and the 9 o’clock news. Now, what were you doing before we entered your apartment?
NS: I was watching the futile dance of a moth in the autumn gloom.
Officer 1: What about the phone conversation?
NS: That too was a futile dance in the autumn gloom. The dance of the moth was merely an outward manifestation of our plight. Are we not all observers of our destiny, seemingly impelling our lives and our narratives forward while, in reality, we are powerless to intervene?
Officer 1: Eh?
NS: Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
Officer 2: Now look –
Officer 1: We heard your girlfriend talking to others, but the sound was muffled. Our technicians will be able to tell us what was said, and the people’s names, but it would save a lot of time, and go better for you, if you tell us now. Let’s start with their names.
NS: What’s in a name? That which we call a rose would by any other name smell as sweet.
Officer 2: We’re not talking about roses. I’ve run out of patience. It’s time.
~~~
Links
My blogging course: still not too late to book!
Letters to Rebecca I’ve seen the letter that Rebecca will send to me on Wednesday, and it’s a real chortlefest.
Other people’s posts
Who controls the narrative, by
A Dune readfest is about to start, courtesy of
and See this article for the lowdown.
My posts:
Over to you
If you like this newsletter, please take a moment to recommend it using Substack’s official form.
The text from “I, a human chaos” to the end of the paragraph is taken from Kahlil Gibran’s The Madman.
In case you didn’t know, a riddle is also a kind of sieve.
Just wanted to let you know that after weeks and weeks of reading “Start the Week”, I finally looked up persiflage in the dictionary. Next week check with me to see if I remember what it means?
Love the Vulpes continuation, I think Nathan should narrate NS. :) And the Ear! Gosh, Where are Pyramus and Thisbe? They can whisper through it, secretly.
I must say, bookshops like the one you describe are my favourite kind, esp. if there is a cafe connected to it, so you get the book and you sit down and read, a quiet cafe, for readers.
Thanks much for the mention, Terry and spreading the sand, I mean, word. Let's read Dune. The Spice Must Flow!