An indulgence

Thursday, April 8th., Cadogan Square, London.

I finished Christopher Morley's book "Thunder on the Left" yesterday. Much boomed. 70,000 copies very quickly. He even says that it will 'literally' make your hair stand on end. Why, I don't know. It didn't make mine. Some clever bits in it. But it's obscure, ill-combined, and unevenly written, and it bored me. I don't know why I bothered to finish it. Suggests to me that 'fashion' has more to do with the success of a book than the quality of the writing. Of course I knew that already, and it's not confined just to literature either.

A more interesting book for me is de Burgh's "Legacy of the Ancient World". It is not very clearly written, and not partciularly easy to read, but it is packed with stuff. Though the fellow's writing is a bit ordinary his ideas and generalisations are pretty good and sometimes rather distinguished. I am endeavouring at the moment to have two 'main' books on the go at any one time - one fiction and one non-fiction. Presently my idea is to read the non-fiction before I settle to sleep giving me a chance to digest and think about what I have read. Also when I wake up in the night I try to go over what I remember. I am woefully ignorant and hope to make some progress by this method.

An indulgence the other day. I was out early and went into Selfridge's which ought not to have been open. I bought a pencil that writes in four colours and a combination magnifying glass, inch rule and letter-opener. All very attractive, indeed irresistible.

Last evening I decided, on a whim, to re-read some of "Clayhanger". Fixed on the scene where Edwin goes to the 'free and easy' at The Dragon. I think it might just be the best bit of writing I have done so far. I was gripped by the emotional power of the scene. Of course I put a lot of myself into Edwin, but even so I think the whole picture is perfectly realised. It is strange to re-read things one has written because, if it well-written, powerful, then it stands by itself. In a way it becomes a work of art which has its own life, and is independent of the creator. That must be also how painters feel about their best works, or composers when they hear their music performed.