2020!!! [expletive deleted]

2020!!*!%&!! 😬 This year... I've read a lot of books. I may even manage a 34th by midnight! That's a lot for me. However, there's a lot I haven't done. Like see a film.

A big regret is that I failed to visit the cinema before my trip to Finland in early March. In other words, the last time there was no issue about going to a cinema. There's all the difference in the world as far as I'm concerned between idly watching a film on the telly, probably with lights on, probably with adverts, lavatory breaks and so on, and actually going to the cinema. HOME includes Manchester's arthouse cinema, and I miss that place, right down to its sweet potato chips and boutique beers. Even if it is a bit of a trek from the station to get to it. I want to see a film with someone, take a trip, have a meal etc. quite apart from enjoying the full experience of great sound, widescreen and everything.  That's seeing a film properly.

Worse, at this end of the year, I don't feel I missed many great films, because the year's releases were so limited. No cinema trips, no streaming or any other kind of platform either. I've seen one or two end of year lists, and yes there were one or two films I'd probably have enjoyed at a pinch, but going to see them would have been risky, especially at HOME where most of the screens are quite small spaces, there would have been no amenities in Manchester or wherever it was, and I'd have been by myself. So that was that.

Only once did I have the pleasure of a browse in a bookshop, Waterstones in Preston. Yes, a pleasure although they'd had to remove all the seating (and there was nowhere at all to have a pee in the city centre). My mission to get through a large chunk of my unread books took a small hit, when I bought a few more. 

Here's one of my 'starred' books from this year. I've had Always Coming Home by Ursula Le Guin for years, decades in fact, waiting to be read, put off not simply by its length but by its complex multi-genre organisation and its density of ideas. It was a marathon of a read, but definitely rewarding. It may be her masterwork; the thing about Le Guin is that at the point, about when I was leaving school, when I was beginning to appreciate that most science fiction was poorly written, I recognised that she was one of the very few exceptions who wrote very well. When Always Coming Home turned up a few years later, I sort of put it to one side for when I was 'ready for it'. This year was good for it: it's about a far future post apocalyptic society, not wholly free of the damage done in the past by our treatment of the planet, but still a moving message of hope.

Elsewhere, I may have embarked on a long term relationship with quite a different SF author, Iain M. Banks, who died back in January I think. He wrote the other doorstopper of a book I read this year, The Algebraist. He's known for a long series of books set in 'The Culture', ambitious far future space opera like this book which however stands on its own, as far as I know. From what I've heard, it probably had to be because one element of this book was active hostility towards any kind of Artificial Intelligence, which I believe dominates The Culture. Being introduced to the universe of The Algebraist made for hard work for the reader, in particular the setting in the atmosphere of a gas giant and the imagining of a complex advanced society of beings who dwell in it. All quite a test for someone wondering whether to invest time in further books by Banks; what with their tendency to be rather long. I have to say, it took a long time for me to get used to his 'tone', but by the end I was well engaged by his characters, both alien and human, and I admired his skill in depicting non-trivial consequences. I will read more Iain M. Banks.

Books, more books... No, I'll leave off excessive commenting on other individual books. Those two were the most monumental page-wise, but overall I'm pleased with the variety of fiction and non-fiction, all sorts of genres, and a few sentimental reads (mainly thinking of my Mum's childhood copy of Swallows and Amazons).  I did, by the way, complete my reading of Keith Waterhouse's novels, with his last two. Not his best, and in different ways very self aware of time having passed, but I'm glad to have done it. There are one or two which I will re-read sometime. Do you ever do that? I found I'd done it far more frequently than I imagined, when I checked back. I saw that as a boy several times I read a great book and then would read it again maybe six months later. 

No trips, beyond nearby parts of Lancashire. But I was on one to Helsinki with a couple of friends when it all kicked off. Finland hasn't suffered the virus too badly compared to here, certainly, but even then there was self consciousness at times when meeting people. Now, not only do I wonder if I'll go back to Finland, see friends, eat salmiakki ice cream, and watch ice hockey any time soon, I haven't been able to attend Finnish School here either. I've gone from disliking the sheer idea of video calling, to being used to classes on Zoom. When I think about the ways I've replaced real life experiences with online ones, it's dispiriting, to be so dependent on wifi connections (they failed at times) and reliable post/package delivery systems (stressful - I'm currently waiting for another lp from Finland, I've been told it'll be a while).

This has got unhelpfully negative. I can't really complain too much: isolation has been bad for me, but physically I'm basically well, and a lot of friends aren't. And this Christmas time, as so often during the year, there have been many instances of kindness and thoughtfulness which I probably don't show enough appreciation of.

Finally, to lighten things further, I'll briefly give you the annual stat report on the Christmas cards. I can tell you that equal in 2nd place were deer (not reindeer, I would count them separately) and owls. But just ahead, the winner this year was - hares.