Diary

I've been reading Shelley: The Pursuit, by Richard Holmes, and, though I thought I'd finish it, I've just decided to give up. The book was first published in 1974, when Holmes was young, and apparently a Shelley fanatic. While I do believe that Shelley was a good poet, his life was so nerve-racking that it's too painful for me to read about it in the slow-motion manner of this volume. You have to wade through his juvenile correspondences and put up with his ridiculously poor judgement in the first hundred pages – and there are still more than six-hundred pages to go! At the age of eighteen he entered his father's alma mater, University College, Oxford, but was expelled, along with his friend, Thomas Jefferson Hogg, after writing and distributing the pamphlet, The Necessity of Atheism, before completing his first year. At the age of nineteen he persuaded a friend of one of his sisters, Harriet Westbrook, to marry him. She was sixteen at the time. They were married in Edinburgh and lived briefly in York – with Hogg. Looking ahead, after Harriet had a child with Shelley and another on the way, he abandoned her for Mary Godwin, whom he married. Harriet drowned herself when she was twenty-one – and so on. Even though Shelley himself only lived to the age of twenty-nine, I don't think that I can take any more of this. This isn't a criticism of Richard Holmes – I just seem to intensely dislike Shelley as a person.

So I'm still on the lookout for something to read. At the moment I'm fairly cabin-bound, because there has been a lot of snow. I've also been unenthusiastically following the Trump phenomenon. I think that he's so bad that even the conservative supreme court may be forced to act against him. The Democrats are gradually building up some gumption, and I think that we may be close to the nadir right now. Meanwhile, I've been able to find some old films that continue to entertain me.