Tea in the Library Read Online Free Page A

nothing ever ends. And we can’t get out of the suit on any terms, for we are made parties to it, and must be parties to it, whether we like it or not.
    But particularly beloved by us kids was the very special Collected Works of P G Wodehouse. I have no idea why my mother should have chosen this set of books from the sales catalogue — perhaps it was just good luck. Jeeves, Bertie Wooster, Psmith, the Earl of Emsworth and his prize pig, the “Empress of Blandings”, and “Uncle Fred In The Springtime”, had us all in stitches.
    In my opinion, no parent can do more for a bevy of children than to provide them with the complete works of P G Wodehouse, or something similar — a modern equivalent might be, for example, Nick Hornby or David Sedaris. Any book that has a reader belly-laughing out loud is surely a wonderful introduction to the joys of reading. When my parents moved house and we kids had grown up and were all moving into our various adult lives, there was quite some squabbling over who would snag the precious Collected Works of P G Wodehouse. I believe my mother clings on to that set of books today, and we are not sure to whom she has left them in her will.
    Once I reached Matriculation College, I found the library a wonderland, seemingly filled with all the Great Books. I read my way through heaps of them, many now blithely forgotten, although I am sure their hidden influences prevail. It was during these years, marked by teenage depression, that I read my first Russian literature, Dostoyevsky and Tolstoy . The Brothers Karamazov suited my mood, as it did so many other adolescents. Or is this a “chicken and egg” proposition?
    It was at Matric that I learnt to value non-fiction reading as well as fiction. The English courses were divided into “English Literature” (the usual Dickens, Jane Austen and Shakespeare, plus poetry) and “English Studies”. In English Studies we actually pursued the fine art of Grammar, read books like Donald Horne’s The Lucky Country — and discussed the implications. I enjoyed it all thoroughly. This was the time I was most influenced by teachers, especially a (then) young man named Harry Kent. Mr. Kent, gratifyingly, was impressed with my vocabulary. Even today, at a rapidly ripening old age, I can recall the glow I felt at praise from him for using the word “nuance” in an essay. My vocabulary had of course come from wide reading, but there was still plenty to learn. Mr. Kent called me a “dark horse”, the first time I had heard the expression. I continue to regard it as a supreme compliment.
    I went off to university, the first person in my family to ever do so, to the bemusement — and pride — of my parents. Of course, that was the seventies, when such things could happen. Since I didn’t ever fancy teaching, the career counselors at school had suggested that I enroll in Law. I hedged my bets and took a combined Arts/Law course. I had clearly forgotten Bleak House .
    The library of the Australian National University was massive. My Arts major was in English Literature, and so there was quite a bit of reading of British classics, and masses of poetry. The thrill of “getting into” T. S. Eliot, I date from this time: 

    And would it have been worth it, after all,  
    Would it have been worthwhile,
    After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,  
    After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor –
    And this, and so much more?
    It is impossible to say just what I mean!
    The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock (1917) 

    My sub-major was History, and we trotted off to the National Library to consult “primary sources” — The Times newspaper from the nineteenth century. How amazing I found it to read those con-temporaneous accounts! I still grab the local newspaper wherever I am in the world