That is right. Spring has hit Edinburgh. Squirrels are frolicking among the crocus-flowers of George Square. The sun is shining. And it is all made all the more delightful from Tor's assurances that Trondheim has had rain for ten days straight (although it was slightly marred by my mother's claim to have had 10 degrees and "lovely weather" today).
As Tor is here to enjoy my good fortune, and we are both relatively young and healthy, we decided to make the most of it and climb a mountain. As you do. It must have been the sun.

Of course, when I say ``mountain'', I mean ``medium-sized hill''. That is to say, Arthur's Seat -- it is a mountain hereabouts because it is about twice as tall as the neighbouring hill, Salisbury Crags. Tor did, however, point out that if you look at it in Real Terms, Arthur's Seat is about as tall as Nordbyen.

At any rate, here is a picture from half-way up the hill. In the background you can see the less impressive Calton Hill.
This picture of Tor is taken at the same point. As you can see, it was fairly windy. I began to feel I might have tempted fate by venturing out in a skirt. This did not turn out to be a problem, however, until we started our descent much later. As I am trying to forget my Marilyn moment, we'll leave that for some other time. But I hope ...

Brideshead Revisited, I imagine, is one of those books you would read very differently depending on how you feel about the Catholic church.

To me, an atheist to my core, it is a book about nostalgia and a desperate, futile attempt to grasp what is gone. This reading makes sense to me, but I know those who take the author's Catholicism into account read parts of it (especially the ending, I suppose) in a more positive, although I hesitate to say "upbeat", way. Waugh claims it is about ``the operations of divine grace on a group of closely connected characters''. I find it is a book about having experienced happiness and a futile attempt to later grasp at any reminder of that happiness available.

The fact that this book accommodates two diametrically opposed impressions is part of the reason why it is so good. It never attempts to hammer home a point; it lays itself open to the reader in a way too few books do.

I would not want you to get the wrong impression from what I have just said. The book is delightful. Especially the description of the early days at Oxford and Brideshead. I suppose it goes somewhat with the territory. A novel about nostalgia could do worse than make its reader nostalgic for the happy past dominating the life of its central character.

It is the story of Charles Ryder. The subtitle of ``The Sacred & Profane Memories of Captain Charles Ryder'' is not ...

Jeg må tilstå at jeg ikke klarer å engasjere meg så veldig hardt i Melodi Grand Prix. Det hadde vært ille nok om man skrev om det akkurat den dagen det foregikk, men med alle delfinaler og landsfinaler og denslags hurlumhei virker det som om man knapt kan gå en dag uten å komme over tullet hver gang man åpner en avis.

Når det er sagt fanget imidlertid en av artiklene interessen min i dag.

Det viser seg at varaordføreren i Aure har sagt noe dumt:

Gi mæ sama, isbjørna og moskusa! Æ syns d e d vi skal sæll, å itj at vi har åpne asylmottak!!!!

og

Ska kvæss mæ et spyd å handel bongotrommå t dusseldorf! Muli æ ræse te afrika å sjer d derifrå! Her ska det etast gnu!!!! Ska ta me mæ næste års innslag oppatt tænkt æ…

Hvis vi ser bort fra den virkelig helt forferdelige ortografien … . Vent. Jeg skjønner behovet for å se bort fra den, vende blikket i en annen retning, late som det ikke har skjedd, men noen må ta tak i dette.

Avisene som tar for seg denne saken siterer alle både den ene og den andre av folk som er sjokkerte over uttalelsen's innhold, og jeg kommer til det snart, men ingen sier noe om formen.

I gamle dager hadde vi standarder. Ja, politikerne var kanskje rasister, men de kunne i alle fall ordlegge seg. Hvor mange utropstegn trenger man? Jeg tror faktisk Ormbostad klarte å bruke opp hele ...

Judging by the first book, The Baroque Cycle is well named. Not mainly because that of the historical period it treats, but because it itself contains the key characteristics to such an extent. It does not come to expression so much in a particularly ornate language, but in a wealth of detail which is there, I think, not so much in order to create any sort of reality effect, but for its own sake. It could be he overdoes it a little at times, but if you are writing a Baroque Cycle I suppose you might as well write a Baroque cycle.

This can be exhausting. Certainly if, like me, you reach for books to check whether these historical ``facts'' are indeed facts or just facts of the fictional variety. This is the frustrating bit. Stephenson makes no secret of his novels having a fictional element, which means that it occasionally feels like reading a text book without the added bonus of being allowed to trust the information that textbook offers. The majority of the book, however, was so well researched, I was delighted. I had to force myself to stop checking up on it all after a while, and someone really could have told me that there was an appendix containing a list of dramatis personæ in which the fictional were distinguished from the real (or as Stephenson puts it, some are historical, others might ``produce confusion, misunderstanding, severe injury, and death if relied upon by time travelers visiting ...

Like over nyttår skrev jeg en artikkel om tiårets bøker. Den var opprinnelig resultatet av et eksperiment for å se hva jeg kunne huske om hva jeg hadde lest over ti år. I utgangspunktet hadde jeg forventet at den ville være umulig å skrive -- eller at den nødvendigvis måtte bli vagere jo tidligere tilbake jeg gikk.

Underveis oppdaget jeg imidlertid noe jeg aldri har tenkt over før: Jeg vet alltid hvor jeg har lest en bok som har gjort inntrykk på meg.

I og med at dette var noe jeg aldri hadde tenkt over før, antok jeg umiddelbart at det var noe alle gjorde, og at jeg bare var dum som ikke hadde insett det før. Et sett dypt uvitenskapelige undersøkelser gjorde det imidlertid snart klart at selv om det ikke er uvanlig, gjelder det slett ikke alle.

Dette fikk meg i sin tur til å tenke mer på hvorfor jeg husker omgivelsene. Som alle som har levd sammen med meg før eller senere har oppdaget er jeg nemlig veldig lite klar over omgivelsene mine mens jeg leser. Det var lenge nesten umulig å få kontakt med meg da jeg var yngre, og mine foreldre var naturlig nok småfrustrerte.

I løpet av julen oppdaget jeg at jeg har utviklet en reaksjon på navnet mitt. Det vil kanskje være riktigere å si at Karoline oppdaget det. Jeg hører ikke hva som foregår rundt meg, men hvis du sier "Camilla", eller noe som høres slik ut, våkner jeg. Hun hadde det deretter ...

The Pillow Book of Sei Shōnagon is a collection of remarks, observations, memories and lists written down by a lady in waiting to the Japanese Empress Sadako in the Heian period in Japan. It is a thousand years old. And it is lovely.

Sei Shonagon is not the real name of the author. Shōnagon means "Minor Councillor", which I think must have been her father's position (from what I understand, ladies at court were known by nicknames and the positions of their father rather than their actual name); Sei refers to the family of Kiyowara, apparently. She was the daughter of a poet (Kiyowara no Motosuke) and a contemporary of the more famous Murasaki Shikibu (author of Tales of Genji, whose name, incidentally, is the name of a flower plus her father's position), who did not like her one bit (she thought her arrogant, frivolous and presumptuous). The rivalry may be founded in the fact that they served two different Empresses: when Sadako's father (Michitaka) died, his position at court was taken by his brother (Michinaga), who had the Emperor marry one of his daughters as well in order to secure his position -- court intrigues are fun. Shikibu served the second Empress.

Sei Shōnagon's real name may have been Kiyowara Nagiko, but no one really knows. Nor is it known what became of her. The Pillow Book therefore has the strange air of providing an intimate opening into a life that is otherwise inaccessible -- the exact ...

This book is delightful. It is full of delights. Good books are usually difficult to describe (because what makes them good is their distinctiveness), but I will try not to fall into "this is good, you have to read it", which is what comes most naturally at the moment, but which is not always terribly persuasive.

The story is set in what I can only describe as the idea of ancient China. It has the very fitting subtitle "A Novel of an Ancient China That Never Was", which neatly hints (to me, at any rate) at precisely this setting in the Idea, rather than any accurate depiction of the historical period. It is not alternative history, per se; rather, it draws on history, fairy tales and heavily ingrained Western stereotypes of Chinese wisdom, to create a beautiful, ludic, funny novel.

There is a sage with a slight flaw in his character, a scary Duke of Chi'in, monsters, ghosts, legends, a misplaced piece of the Great Wall, cryptic clues, a cave of music and an Old Man of the Mountain.

The language is occasionally delicious, and always good. It is lyric and playful in turns and the whimsical style appealed to me from the beginning. Fitting perfectly into my idea of China, there is a definite fascination with lists of strange things, but this never detracts from the narrative. What I found most tiresome was the incessant need to travel from one place to another, and return at regular intervals ...

Anders etterlyste artikler om hvordan man leser heller enn hva, men jeg synes også det er interessant å spore tendenser over tid. Nå er jo millenniets første tiår over (alt etter hvordan man regner den slags), og en annen side jeg frekventerer ga meg idéen å skrive om hva og hvordan jeg har lest det siste tiåret. Dette er jo det tiåret som har vært preget av at jeg tok høyere utdanning. Det begynner i 2000 med et år i Peru, og i 2002 begynte vi vel på universitetet. Og der har jeg vært siden.

I Peru leste jeg i begynnelsen stort sett Douglas Adams. Hitch-hiker's Guide var en av de få bøkene jeg hadde med meg (for jeg skulle jo ikke egentlig lese norske eller engelske bøker), men det tok ikke moren min lang tid å få meg til å lese peruanske eventyr og denslags. Ringenes herre (El señor de los anillos) var vel den første boken jeg leste på spansk (i den tro at en bok jeg kjente godt ville være best å starte med), men jeg fikk deretter med meg noen gode spanske bøker (blant annet Don Quijote) og en del peruanske: Ciro Allegría og José Carlos Mariátegui, men av en eller annen grunn aldri Mario Vargas Llosa. Jeg hadde klart å overbevise skolen jeg gikk på at jeg burde få fri i gym- og realfagstimene for å sette meg bedre inn i peruviansk kultur. En stjerneidé jeg tok med meg tilbake til Norge uten mye ...

I går stemte altså britiske politikere over planene om å øke skolepengene på engelske universiteter fra £3,000 til £9,000 i året. Selv om Skottland ikke er direkte berørt av denne beslutningen (Skottland har ikke hatt skolepenger for skotske studenter siden Devolution (som skjedde omtrent samtidig med innføringen av skolepenger, interessant nok), og de har lavere skolepenger for engelske studenter enn England har -- særlig etter at England innførte top-up fees i 2004) har det som tidligere nevnt vært flere protester her. Det er delvis i solidaritet med engelske studenter, men bunner også i en forståelse av at vi har å gjøre med komplekse systemer, og at det som skjer i England vil påvirke Skottland i lengden.

I går holdt Edinburgh en "candlelight vigil" mens vi ventet på å høre resultatet av voteringen. Det har vært veldig spennende å følge de politiske manøvreringene her i det siste. LibDems lovte jo før valget å stemme mot økning i skolepenger, og hadde også sagt at de ville jobbe for å fjerne dem helt med tiden. Siden de gikk i regjering med Conservatives har mye av tiden og energien vært brukt på å prøve å finne et smutthull i lovnadene de hadde skrevet under på, såkalte "pledges".

Som litteraturstudent har jeg funnet det veldig fascinerende. De skrev under på at

I pledge...
TO VOTE AGAINST
ANY INCREASE IN FEES
in the next parliament
and to pressure the
government to introduce
A FAIRER ALTERNATIVE

og har siden prøvd å få det til at siden ...

Since our last attempt and the continued occupation of a university building was not enough to sway the government away from its wicked ways, a new protest was organised (aided by rumours that Nick Clegg would be here). And in view of Edinburgh's latest meteorological surprise it had to be billed as a snowball fight.

As usual, I showed up half an hour early. This is a very silly thing to do when the ground is covered in sleet and snow and your combat boots are no longer as water tight as they once were. Still, I was not alone.

There were at least 7 other early birds with one or two more or less family friendly banners. I did not realise the point of the star in the middle of "cuts" until I got home and started looking through the pictures. Soon after, the police showed up as well.

I found this hilarious at the time. As I said, there were about 7 protesters in Bristo Square at this time. Maybe 10. At the appointed time, however, numbers swelled quite suddenly, and in the end there were a lot of people there. Depite the snow falling.

And falling.

We marched from Bristo square, up George IV Bridge, down the Royal Mile to the Scottish Parliament in Holyrood. It was a daring endeavour, as the road was slippery with sleet on cobble stones; and if the ones at the back had slipped at any time, I am fairly sure ...