Books in Ruins

Yesterday, as shown above, I walked around Bury St Edmunds, Suffolk, taking photographs.

Today, I visited St Botolph’s Priory, Colchester, Essex:

Meanwhile, I have planned, for later in 2013, to revisit Glastonbury, Somerset and its Abbey Ruins
since first going there on holiday with my then young family in the late 1970s.
I had then become entranced with Glastonbury’s ‘genius loci’ as a result of reading the
massive novel ‘The Glastonbury Romance’ by John Cowper Powys, a book which I have now
re-read in the last few months.
And this has made me think that buildings are preserved even as ruins, people
as statues, nature as trees, coastlines as rocks… so why not the written word as real books?
Books not only in but proudly as Ruins.
Ruins for their own sake.
As well as trees, statues, rocks, and authors actually become their own books…real books.
Real people in eternity.
“I feel that the souls of original writers — for the more original a writer is, the more powerful
is the pressure of his projected soul — are real presences that have their dwelling inside
the printed pages of the author’s books;…”
–from THE INMATES (1952) by John Cowper Powys


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5 responses to “Books in Ruins

  1. “…to be soothed by the innocuous daydreams of nature’s twilights? Obviously when reading! And reading what books? Obviously old-fashioned books. From the pages of modern books the minds of readers seldom wander. It is from old-fashioned books that these touchingly abstracted heads are lifted up in their trances of absorbed daydreams.”
    — from THE INMATES (1952) by John Cowper Powys

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