What a brilliant piece of writing this is. Thanks for letting us walk around London with you, and think about inspiration, animals, omens, friendship, all the things flying through one writer's consciousness as he perambulates around Bloomsbury... I'm going to be thinking about this piece all weekend. Is the mailbox at the top of the post the Woolf mailbox? Now I can't stop looking at it... and thinking about her fiction + your fiction + Sylvia's fiction... As for poetry, I can't remember if Plath has any magpie poems, but her "Black Rook in Rainy Weather" is my all-time favorite. Thanks for transporting me from Seattle to London today.
Thank you so much, Chris. I’m really glad. More literary tourism/hauntings ahead for sure. More birds too. Shakespeare, Jane Austen, Vita, just a lot more of all of that.
I am HERE for it. Looking forward to all of the above. If you pass the sculpture of Woolf in Tavistock Square Park, please tell her I've been thinking about her nonstop
These letters are so lovely to read. Thank you for taking the time to write them. I miss London. A side note: have you read Heidi Holder's Crows: An Old Rhyme? It's a wonderful picture book from the 80s, I think you would enjoy the illustrations, which are very tarot-like in their details. My father mailed me a copy of the book when I was five, and I've had that same rhyme memorized for decades. Anyway, looking forward to more letters.
I loved this. I envy you the opportunity to immerse yourself in a new city and really learn the streetmap. We mostly live in the country, need a car for everything, but when we are in town I love wandering, spotting the blue plaques, the alleyways, the old pubs, and stumbling upon delicious restaurants and cafés.
❤️ I do know someone else in London with a magpie. She hunts sidesaddle in incredible tweed tailoring and is pretty Amazon. But I don’t think hers is called Hecate. We have a flock here in my Swedish neighbourhood but they terrify me (used to love them, had a stuffed one at university for reasons I won’t go into here). They wait till other birds fly into windows then finish them off and strip them to down feathers within minutes. Not even bones left.
I’ve gotten all jumbled up trying to compose a comment with the competing pleasures and wonders of reading this piece. The joy of the writing itself, some personal synchronicities for me in the text on a day popping with them--“long finger of fate”* feelings. (For example: a friend of mine who’s visiting London just posted a picture of herself with her new special umbrella in front of what must be that very umbrella shop. And then I had a major abandoned-novel-based bird synchronicity this morning. Forgive me for recounting these! We’re strangers! You couldn’t possibly care! But I had to mention these things anyway.)
I hope the magpie novel comes out to see us. I can’t get over how magpies sound like Andean pan flutes in the morning and regular crow doofuses later in the day.
*you batting away the long finger of fate = my favorite bit amongst stiff competition
-->please forgive this entire enthusiastic mess of a comment<--
And as I said on your note (for anyone else reading the comment) yes the photo is of the mailbox I was told was the one she used. The pub is the Lamb.
What a brilliant piece of writing this is. Thanks for letting us walk around London with you, and think about inspiration, animals, omens, friendship, all the things flying through one writer's consciousness as he perambulates around Bloomsbury... I'm going to be thinking about this piece all weekend. Is the mailbox at the top of the post the Woolf mailbox? Now I can't stop looking at it... and thinking about her fiction + your fiction + Sylvia's fiction... As for poetry, I can't remember if Plath has any magpie poems, but her "Black Rook in Rainy Weather" is my all-time favorite. Thanks for transporting me from Seattle to London today.
Thank you so much, Chris. I’m really glad. More literary tourism/hauntings ahead for sure. More birds too. Shakespeare, Jane Austen, Vita, just a lot more of all of that.
I am HERE for it. Looking forward to all of the above. If you pass the sculpture of Woolf in Tavistock Square Park, please tell her I've been thinking about her nonstop
Deal
This is wonderful...
These letters are so lovely to read. Thank you for taking the time to write them. I miss London. A side note: have you read Heidi Holder's Crows: An Old Rhyme? It's a wonderful picture book from the 80s, I think you would enjoy the illustrations, which are very tarot-like in their details. My father mailed me a copy of the book when I was five, and I've had that same rhyme memorized for decades. Anyway, looking forward to more letters.
And thank you so much
I haven’t but I’ll keep an eye out at the bookstore later.
I loved this. I envy you the opportunity to immerse yourself in a new city and really learn the streetmap. We mostly live in the country, need a car for everything, but when we are in town I love wandering, spotting the blue plaques, the alleyways, the old pubs, and stumbling upon delicious restaurants and cafés.
❤️ I do know someone else in London with a magpie. She hunts sidesaddle in incredible tweed tailoring and is pretty Amazon. But I don’t think hers is called Hecate. We have a flock here in my Swedish neighbourhood but they terrify me (used to love them, had a stuffed one at university for reasons I won’t go into here). They wait till other birds fly into windows then finish them off and strip them to down feathers within minutes. Not even bones left.
I was wrong, her magpie was named Hecate!
!!
Lady Martha Sitwell. 🐦⬛
I’ve gotten all jumbled up trying to compose a comment with the competing pleasures and wonders of reading this piece. The joy of the writing itself, some personal synchronicities for me in the text on a day popping with them--“long finger of fate”* feelings. (For example: a friend of mine who’s visiting London just posted a picture of herself with her new special umbrella in front of what must be that very umbrella shop. And then I had a major abandoned-novel-based bird synchronicity this morning. Forgive me for recounting these! We’re strangers! You couldn’t possibly care! But I had to mention these things anyway.)
I hope the magpie novel comes out to see us. I can’t get over how magpies sound like Andean pan flutes in the morning and regular crow doofuses later in the day.
*you batting away the long finger of fate = my favorite bit amongst stiff competition
-->please forgive this entire enthusiastic mess of a comment<--
It’s delightful to know actually. Thanks so much for reading it and enjoying it.
Wonderful. Thank you.
I really liked this one.
Thanks!