Reading for pleasure
I suffered hoots of derision. HOOTS. Last bank holiday weekend, I hunkered down with a glossy new copy of Modern Farmer magazine. I simply can’t see why it was so funny.
I have a passion for periodicals.
I stopped buying books years ago because I’m now all about the Kindle. But I do love a periodical. To me, they’re in a different league to magazines (though I do have a penchant for Tatler). They’re beautiful. The cover is thicker, the paper is dense, they’re for keeps.
They’re a celebration of typography, graphic design, illustration and great writing.
Little pockets of magical mystery knowledge that someone, cleverer and more creative than me, went off and just found. Just for the publishability of it.
A few favourites:
Ernest: a trove that purports to cover curious histories, workmanship, slow adventure, timeless style and wild food. Fair do’s, there’s almost nothing in my life that resembles a ramble, but I do crave a house full of hand-tooled hand tools.
Found: a trove of photography of the stuff people just find.
And let’s not forget, Modern Farmer. There’s a lot more in there than just ads for tractors. But the best thing is, it has those too. You just never know when you’ll need one.
*In memoriam* Lucky Peach: food porn with smarts. No longer with us, may it rest in peace.
