Category Archives: Books

Journey

Posted on February 24, 2024 by lesleyjonesberry

I am in the middle of a Short Story Writing course and our topic this week is journeys.  I’m finding it impossible to write a story.  Journeys are so deeply symbolic, so essentially, entrenchedly metaphorical, any creative capacity I have … Continue reading →

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Carpe Diem

Posted on December 30, 2023 by lesleyjonesberry

There is an old Fry and Laurie sketch, Shakespear (sic) Masterclass in which the pedagogic lecturer, Fry, employs fresh-faced actor, Hugh, to work on a passage from Troilus and Cressida: Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back,Wherein he … Continue reading →

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Work in Progress

Posted on November 27, 2022 by lesleyjonesberry

Sometimes it seems I am just beginning to learn how to live:  that, until now, I have muddled through by accident.  As a child I recall grown ups saying “if only I knew then what I know now…”, which I … Continue reading →

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Solitude

Posted on September 11, 2022 by lesleyjonesberry

Before I start, I must distinguish between solitude and loneliness. We never choose loneliness, which is painful and – what is the word? – ‘unhealthy’, meaning health as in wholeness; ‘unnatural’ in the sense that we are inherently, innately social … Continue reading →

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Recovery

Posted on July 22, 2022 by lesleyjonesberry

The word that came to mind was recover.  And I hesitated, to become sure of what it means.  Recover can be read two ways:  to heal, or to replace a protective layer.  Difficult as things are, I don’t want the … Continue reading →

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It goes without saying

Posted on April 15, 2022 by lesleyjonesberry

I often feel that I talk too much and, indeed, I often do.  Some of this is innate, I think:  I have such an urge to try to express things, I gain such relief and pleasure in my quest to … Continue reading →

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It is time to speak of Julia

Posted on January 30, 2022 by lesleyjonesberry

I am re-reading Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh. It’s a striking, indulgent, flawed novel, I think. Not entirely successful, but somehow it communicates a – to me, irresistible – sense of beauty, loss and yearning which repeatedly draws me back. … Continue reading →

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The Mad Woman in the Attic

Posted on January 2, 2022 by lesleyjonesberry

Sometimes I dream of being in a familiar house, opening a door and finding a forgotten room. This is a common dream theme, a recurrent trope. The discovery brings with it with a strange small mis-step lurch of emotion: how … Continue reading →

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In My Mind’s Eye

Posted on January 10, 2021 by lesleyjonesberry

Another national lockdown returns me to Dickens.  I have written already about the reassurance and pleasure provided through long novels.  Good audiobook versions are my substitute for live theatre:  more than anything else, this is where I can find compensation … Continue reading →

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Connexions

Posted on November 22, 2020 by lesleyjonesberry

In the midst of what, for convenience, I’ll call the ‘second lockdown’ I have rejected Zoom. My head recognises its benefits, but my heart has rebelled. 

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