Maybe we should be asking Emily Wilson. For she, it was, who inspired Laura Coffey in those dark days of lockdown. And Laura in turn enchants us to extreme.
In her case the Author's First Book goes straight into my Reads of 2025, and if it's not still in the top three by the end of the year then I'm in for a fine old reading year. As it stands Enchanted Islands is richly deserving of a place. Such beautiful writing, such raw emotion.
Despite travel restrictions, and we all remember them, Laura managed to get to some hugely interesting places. From Italy, to Sicily and islands off; ditto Menorca. Alone, distanced. Places to see; people to meet.
That inspiration from Emily Wilson allowed her to weave through her traveller's tales legends from 3,000 years before. Emily you see, had translated Homer's Odyssey, and Laura assures us that she did so with a light and sympathetic hand.
Together Misses Coffey and Wilson takes us into distant coves, around isolated shores, and into the very waters. We feel the pain of every medusa sting, immersed in Laura's enjoyment of cold water. A swimmer, cyclist, wanderer, perhaps a dreamer. And a daughter.
In the background there is pain. Some we have experienced; some we hope we may never endure. I'll give no spoilers here.
The references through the journeys, the day to day life, back to tales of Odysseus, are such that I immediately sought out a copy of Emily Wilson's translation. Never having read The Odyssey, it's long overdue. And poetry is very much on the agenda these days.
However. But, even. I find the publication, by Norton Critical Editions, to be very user unfriendly. Wafer thin paper, and a tiny print font are not easy on the eye. And when your eyes are old, the lids prone to gravity on late night reading sessions, I fear that I may not get beyond the Introduction any time soon.
The Odyssey could be left as reference work, on the shelf beside Wordsworth's Prelude. Something to dip in and out of from time to time. A volume to note interesting elements, perhaps even to deface with marginalia. Ssh, don't tell.
And If I find an Odysseus shaped itch with an urge to scratch, then perhaps I'll go back to the wonderful Christopher Rush's Penelope's Web from a decade ago.
In their defence Norton's publication may be intended for scholars, young folk, with young eyes and insatiable desires. Right now my eyeballs are being sucked into their sockets, topped by furrowed brows and the onset of a headache. Such is the price of old age. It didn't have to be that way Norton. You didn't have to squeeze 500 pages into 13mm. There's a limit as to how much I'll endure.
Whatever, that wont spoil the recollections of Laura Coffey's enchantment; or the magnetic pull of Christopher Rush, who has such a catalogue that I may even embark on them all. If only I didn't keep finding new stuff to read.
That list of mine continues to be updated, and can still be found at https://laidbackmuse.wordpress.com/the-bookshelf/
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