Sign my Citalopram

This book is a collection of conversational poems by Hannah Chutzpah produced by The Spirit of the Rainbow Heron, a Sheffield-based mental health advocacy group. I really enjoyed this book, it being one of those rare cases of poetry collections that are generous enough to play down the literary subtleties and so make a less intellectually taxing read, but that utterly drip with authenticity, relatable quirks, and character - I teared up at a few and laughed out loud at a few others, and it's really not often a poet will make me do both in the same book. Dealing with themes of self-confidence, power and permissiveness, the narratives in this collection are drawn brilliantly and slice neat wedges of psychological & sociological insights into social interactions and the mental health implications bubbling along under the surfaces of these; overall the book makes for an extremely life-affirming read and did to me the best which anyone can hope their poetry does for anyone else - making them feel less alonely odd in the world, giving them true things to latch onto that are far from unattainable by helping unlock them in the reader themself. Not to say humour or art or attitude alone can cure any mental ailments, but if you're a sufferer and you've never tried to read your way out into some happier less turbulent places, give it a go - you'd be surprised.

the Selfish Crocodile

This book by Faustin Charles, illustrated by Mike Terry, is about (oooooooo spoilers) a crocodile who tends to regard his own interests above those of his fellow river-dwellers, until one day he gets toothache, and a mouse helps, and suddenly he starts opening up. That's it! How wholesome is that? Brilliant, right? The pictures are juicily detailed, adding layers of character onto prose that A. doesn't even rhyme & B. isn't that good but overall makes for a pretty good kids' book, I suppose.

We're Going on a Bear Hunt

This book by Michael Rosen, illustrated by Helen Oxenbury, is an undisputed classic of 90's kids' literature by a grandmaster of the genre. Repetitive rhythmic scheme of text and washy adventurousness of pictures all meld together to make this a reading experience that for children anywhere between 2 and 7 years old proves it for almost endless re-readings; it's about a family going on a bear hunt across a variety of natural obstables, and [SPOILER ALERT] they find a bear... Definitely one to recommend.

Slinky Malinki: Open the Door

This book, by Lynley Dodd, is part of the fantastic Hairy McLary & Friends series which I loved as a child and this ridiculous mad cat Slinky was always my favourite of their whole ensemble. The pictures are full, loud, exciting - and the rhyming-couplet text tells in pitch-perfect detail the short-lived escapades of a housecat and parakeet hellbent on all kinds of domestic destruction while their owner is out and about. A great one for kids.

A Quiet Night In

This book by Jill Murphy was one among a series of elephant-family books I had as a kid* and to my surprise my parents retain. It's a pretty boring story, consisting of a family of elephants, whose dad is having a birthday for which the mum is planning [title]. The kid-elephants get variously antsy and annoy their mum while waiting for dad to get home from work, only to all fall asleep as soon as he arrives, and the parents end up having a quiet night in anyway. If any moral can be taken from the story it's that parent life is awful and kids are the fucking worst. I certainly sunk in exactly this from reading it as a juvenile. Whatever. Maybe worth a shot for the tiddlies?

* If you're wondering why I seem to be reading loads of children's books at the moment, I'll remind you that I've temporarily moved back in with my parents, who for a day or two a week babysit a toddler called Isaac, which was weird enough, but he's now old enough to form his own shortish sentences, and having become well accustomed to his being referred to as 'Little Isaac' while I am 'Big Isaac', the sheer power with which he can demand I read him stuff must have bolstered his ego of late - as recently he marched into the kitchen to declare "I'm big Isaac now!" which I can't really argue with.

Reasons to Stay Alive

This book by Matt Haig (much like this one but moreso) is a mishmash: part personal testimonial about mental health and what happens when it goes extremely wrong in context of one's life; part rambling disjointed (at least he's constructed it to feel like that but it flows like triple-ply clockwork toilet paper) meditation on all of this, and how it is going to be differently similar for everyone 'experiencing' it from whatever point of view.
   In a straightforwardly practical empathetic sense I honestly don't think I've come across a better descriptive walkthrough of what it's like to suffer depression and/or anxiety, and similarly the reflections (drawn from both reliably-common-sense research and Haig's own brush with a suicidal inkling) on supporting loved ones going through this are probably some of the more grounded, helpful and well-put bits of advice I've seen given to General Readers on the subject.
   I've been put off reading this book for the last couple of years despite seeing it all over the place on bestseller lists* because - frankly, because I've been scared of the degree to which my own mental health is not entirely stable and I resented the idea that anyone would need to receive reasons for this Very Obvious Thing from a book. But all that said and thought, I found this book so moving and raw and real and just honestly humanly hopeful that I'd recommend it with gusto - particularly good for friends or relatives of someone unduly-acquainted with the black dog.
   For people in such a situation themselves it may help but first up I can't make book recommendations over the Real Important Shit of 1. getting help BEFORE the situation becomes dire & 2. see 1... Mind and the Samaritans both offer free support and can be a real lifeline.**



* When 'how-and-why-to' guides for not killing yourself are bestsellers, it should maybe be a bit of a clue that you live in a somewhat Fucked society. Meh

** Not to disparage though as I've got a hefty hunch Haig's book has probably gone some significant way toward saving many lives. Which - you never know whether you may have helped someone in some way like this before either. Or maybe you do. Mental health can often be a silent killer and so if you know someone who is struggling - don't wait for things to stew, be better as a friend & help each other through this shit

the Little Book of Colour

This book by Karen Haller proclaims, per its subtitle, that it will informatively equip its reader to better transform their lives utilising the psychology of colour. I didn't even know there was such a thing - apart from, of course there is, and it's mindblowingly subtle & powerful in its everyday constant potency. The kinda thing you never think about until you do then you can't ever unsee it - or remove from your daily awareness of such a basic thing as colour some residual echoes of the backdrop; each colour's psychological hefts - which are affected partly by cultural context and personal taste, but weirdly there's a deep-rooted similitude in how colours affect people's brains. What it may make someone think or feel is impossible to neatly predict, as everyone processes things differently and most common colours have widely variably symbolic purposes in different cultures - but I learnt from Haller that each colour actually triggers particular neurological responses and these are pretty consistent across human diversity... which means that carefully chosen & crafted combinations of colours tend to induce reliable effects in those perceiving them.* Visually delicious and accessibly written, this was a fascinating surprise: I bought it for my sister's birthday & ended up reading it all in about an hour and a half on the coach before she got it.

* Obviously yes, there's a good two or three chapters exploring meaty applications of all this theory in workplaces, home decor and personal fashion.

Slinky Malinki: Catflaps

This book by Lynley Dodd takes pains to deeply explore the sociological complexities of a neighbourhood's-worth of cats when they congregate nocturnally to sit on fences & make noises. I can't say from experience how reliable this image is, as though having had a pet cat in the past I don't ever remember it sneaking out in the small hours to meet other cats and sit in prominent places to mewl, screech and whine until people threw shoes at them, but maybe that's just me. In any case - as with all of Dodd's oeuvre, this is a top-notch kids' book with lively characterful illustrations and rhyming-couplet text that rolls off the brain so well that I basically was able to recite it upon rereading despite it being a good two decades or so since I've read this one. Worth a punt as a children-gift.

You've never seen a doomsday like it

This book, another [see other two] poetry collection by Kate Garrett, is as punchy as it is liberating in its core philosophical attitudes. The poems here are apocalyptic, not in the fire & brimstone cliché sense but in the original meaning of the word - apocalypses being uncoverings of new or hidden knowledge. Variably these unveilings can be of kinds which may upend, uproot or uplift our entire hitherto lives: old habits forgottenly conquered, old chains burst free from, old ignorant darkness lit by the fires of sight and reality - however things might turn out in the longer term, it makes these heavings no less intimidating or uncertain a thing or time to pass through, and here Kate dances the twisting line between fortuitous or calamitous change with a shrewdness and learnedness that is truly exhilarating. Short as it is, I took a while to read this for that very reason.

Stickleback

This booklet is a mini-collection of four poems by Kate Garrett, exploring the joys, pains, and oddnesses of being pregnant with a child you know is suffering congenitally from a heart condition. Not something as a wombless person I'm ever going to experience but as I myself was born with a similar defect to Kate's youngest* it was a stimulatingly empathic read and I've gifted the booklet to my mother having finished it - she's not a big poetry reader but I reckon she'll find much of comfort and sympathy in there too.

* Kate, among the million other awesome things she does in & for the poetry world, runs a blog compiling pieces broadly about these themes to raise money for children who need heart-related healthcare. I've been lucky enough to not only survive my ills of birth so far but had a poem titled Salvation published here, which uses my condition as a run-on metaphor to talk about my spiritual wellbeing and journeys therein.

Why I am not going to buy a computer

This book, a Penguin Moderns release comprising two essays by American pastoral poet Wendell Berry, is a brilliant, enlightening and challenging read on diverse topics brought together into a powerful tangible whole.

   The first [eponymous] essay is a very short but deeply cogent manifesto, on modernity's over-reliance on information technology, and how amid the changing nature of work by these tools, Berry, a farmer and writer, ruminates on the primacy of the pencil over the keyboard for his latter craft just as he prefers time-tried hand-work over surrendering to the growing preference for new-fangled gadgetry in the agricultural field.* What struck me on bristling at some of his arguments is the sincerity, well-meaningness and eloquence with which the case is made; some double the number of pages taken up by this essay are given over to printing original letters sent into the magazine where it was published and several of these questions (it must be said, varying in relevance & graciousness) are given fullish appropriate responses by Berry - however he also mentions that numerous letters received about thus were directly critical & presumptive about his relationship with his wife, particularly regarding the nature of domestic work; touching a personal nerve, the responses herein go on to form;

   The second, Feminism, the Body and the Machine, is more an academic freestyle on defending the basic nuances ignored by feminists, would-be's & aren'ts in the (admittedly shallow) critique of Berry's domestic-economic situation blurted in response to some lines of his above piece. His arguments in this are wide-ranging, complex and yet I think quite convincing - and while I found much I thought I was going to disagree with him on during the reading by the time he'd wrapped it up I found myself apologetically onside. Well worth a read on its own merit as offers a really interesting male perspective on current (or maybe, generationally, arguably just pre-current-ish) gender norms & how these link in with spheres of political-economic and technological reality & attitude.

   Overall these two brief pieces bring a fresh-yet-bucolic vision to long-standing debates; and however much you want to scream at this patriarchal Luddite - give him a read and think for yourself. Definitely a recommended little book if you're into exploring the quiet hidden interconnections of the tools, personalities and structures making up modernity.

* No pun intended.