Welcome to 5 Bites Friday: my weekly article where I share
the contents of my learnings from the past week in my life.
1 – what I am reading
Pakistan a hard country by Anatol Levin – what I would term
as ‘a purely Pakistani’ book, Levin’s brilliantly observed and beautifully accessible
book truly represents the complexities of Pakistan, with a self-awareness about
how Westerners might overlook these complications for a more sensible and linear
narration. I am learning a lot from this book.
2 – this week’s article
*a busy week at home, so couldn’t read as usually many articles
Crisis at the heart of Literary Fiction @Telegraph – an article
which explores the conundrum within literary prizes: should the prizes be given
based mainly on the subject matter of the book, or should it focus more the writing
and the craft of the writer? A probing question to think about.
3 – what I watched
Spencer (2021) – with one of the, if not the best, lead performance
by Kristen Stewart, whom I didn’t realize until I looked up the cast-list nor
did I believe that she could put up such a powerful performance, this movie
about one Christmas event in Princess Diana’s life and her struggle with mental
illnesses and her inability to fit in with the royal family. Definitely one of
the best movie of this year so far.
4 – a poem by George Orwell
A beautiful poem from George Orwell, written in his
twenties, about the conflict between his nature and the world he found himself;
resonant with every feeling person… I came across this poem while reading
Orwell’s essay ‘Why I write?’
A happy vicar I might have been
Two hundred years ago
To preach upon eternal doom
And watch my walnuts grow;
But born, alas, in an evil time,
I missed that pleasant haven,
For the hair has grown on my upper
lip
And the clergy are all
clean-shaven.
And later still the times were
good,
We were so easy to please,
We rocked our troubled thoughts to
sleep
On the bosoms of the trees.
All ignorant we dared to own
The joys we now dissemble;
The greenfinch on the apple bough
Could make my enemies tremble.
But girl’s bellies and apricots,
Roach in a shaded stream,
Horses, ducks in flight at dawn,
All these are a dream.
It is forbidden to dream again;
We maim our joys or hide them:
Horses are made of chromium steel
And little fat men shall ride
them.
I am the worm who never turned,
The eunuch without a harem;
Between the priest and the
commissar
I walk like Eugene Aram;
And the commissar is telling my
fortune
While the radio plays,
But the priest has promised an
Austin Seven,
For Duggie always pays.
I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls,
And woke to find it true;
I wasn’t born for an age like
this;
Was Smith? Was Jones? Were you?
5 – this week’s quote
There is no such thing as a prudent marriage; marriage is a crusade, there is always tragedy in it.
Marianne Moore