It's about time we heard from our guest blogger Henry Feltham, so luckily, here he is. Henry is holed up in deepest darkest Dunedin, trapped in a virtual world, wondering if he needs to leave it in order to get rid of the lump in his gut. Intrigued? Then continue, dear reader …

A long time ago I went to the launch of a book by Ingrid Horrocks, called Travels with Augusta. It was held at Unity Books, where she used to work. She stood there, slightly to the right of the counter and talked about the way she had written her book, which traced her journey guided by a great-great-aunt's memoirs. The story of her travels through the same region. A lovely idea, that made for a lovely book. What sticks with me, though, is something else, something random: the image of Ingrid pronouncing – as though forever settling some long-standing argument – that it is impossible to write while working full-time. Her resignation from Unity was apparently prerequisite to her standing there, once more, with her book in her hand.

I have little or no control over the facts and fragments my brain hugs to its bosom. Facts sometimes gain an utterly irrational precedence – I remember the number of descendents a single pair of rats can have at the end of 12 months (as many as 15,000), or that Georgia O'Keefe died a few days before her 100th birthday, or that potassium is an important chemical in synaptic memory function. These are not important facts. They're just stuck in my head. Likewise, people say things that linger in my mind far beyond their import or reason – for the longest time I believed I could only write three hours a day, because Roald Dahl (pictured) said three was his limit. I'm not sure I even have this right, but that's not the point, is it?

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Apropos of nothing really, except that it's always good to remember these things, Henry Feltham has an insider's story of a hospital visit to Hone Tuwhare. It's made me dig out some poetry, and then some more… hope it does the same for you. Henry:

It has been a long time since I visited the sickly poet in hospital. I remembered the day only because I dug up notes made on a typewriter, that had itself long since vanished. Apparently I was 'striding towards the main block of Wellington Hospital … Roger explaining why Hone would have accepted flowers … indeed could be highly charming … but wouldn’t miss them …'

Memory has made the day white, almost featureless, which it easily could have been in early October, and we were gabbling, Roger really, up the lift, with lost souls coming and going at every floor, until we reach level M and crept down the hall towards Hone's room.

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LeafSalon lives! Yes sirree, despite the fact that we’ve moved over the ditch to the big smoke of Sydney your emails have convinced me at the very least to delegate. Our first new contributor is Henry Feltham (pictured, right) who has recently been blogging on NZ Book Month and who also was one of the first winners of The Six Pack. Some of you (or many of you, judging by last years whopping submissions bag) will now be agonising over your Six Pack entry, so take heart from Henry's humbling admission of personal discouragement and its antidote, and forge ahead. I’ll be back on board very soon with a trans-Tasman missive – I'm going to be seeing Paul Auster with Siri Hustvedt next week as well as the marvelous Ian McEwen at the Opera House and I'm sure you'd like to hear about that. Indeed, there are advantages in the Sydney life, although I hear Ian is coming to Wellington too! Wow. But now it's over to Henry. And if anyone else feels they need a literary voice here on LeafSalon, just drop me a line. We'd all love to hear from you.

Nothing bleeds a writer of ambition more than working in a publishing house. I was 22, I think, maybe 23, and had just come back from living in Kenya with my girlfriend. The world looked deeply strange to me, and I needed a job that could accommodate this.

I found it.

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Had to put this up right away, thanks Mary McCallum for sending it in so promptly:

'The Writers on Monday session at the Wellington City Gallery this week was abruptly halted when US poet Dora Malech fainted while starting to read a love poem [or it might have been a poem about love poems – she’d just introduced it by refuting Rilke’s advice to the young to avoid such abstract excesses saying that it was a waste of good hormones].

Malech had been reading and talking about her poems for no more than 15 minutes when she suddenly collapsed. There was no sign anything was wrong before then; in fact the young poet (mid 20s?) had charmed the lunchtime audience of 45 or so people with her clever, playful poems that had the shine of youth still on them, and her amusing introductions to each one. She was only going to read for five minutes more and then she was to have sat down and had a conversation with poet Andrew Johnston.

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I must just put up a quick reminder to all of those who know and love the lists that come with the IIML newsletter. Cath Vidler, of Snorkel, has now chosen to fully immerse herself in her endearingly mad craft by beginning a blog purely for the purpose of list-making.

I particularly like the 'Sounds made in various contexts by Norwegian rats Snip, Cricket, Widget and Squeak' and also 'Yodelling Phrases' (the way this is listed is actually art in itself and oh - that triumphant finish! I defy anyone to read it without at least an attempt). And the way one is brought down to earth at the end of the Darjeeling Tea-Grading Acronyms and their Meanings – I found it really grounding.

The long winter evenings are going to fly by - keep it coming, Cath.

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Looks like viral marketing has hit the fusty world of bookshops: a sheet of Whitcoulls coupons is doing the email rounds amongst publishers and media types.

No wonder it's spreading like wildfire: the coupons offer 50% off any paperback fiction book, 30% off any children's book, 25% off any other sort of book - yes, even LeafSalon's own glorious bestseller Vantastic - and 25% off calendars and diaries. Plus, much, more more!

Being generous of spirit, we've uploaded the coupon onto one of our Flickr pages, so you can download it at your heart's content and print out. And no, we don't have any connection to Whitcoulls.

A tip: the offer expires on Wednesday 18 October, so may we politely suggest that you rattle your dags and head down to your nearest store pronto. Tell 'em LeafSalon sent you.

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About a year ago, the late Nigel Cox addressed a packed hall at Titirangi's Going West festival. Cox was fresh off the plane from Berlin, where he'd been working at the Jewish Museum.

Five years away from New Zealand gave Cox a good perspective on the Kiwi way of life, and how it compares to Europe. Those observations formed the basis of a riveting speech, so we're pleased to present his notes for the evening.

You can download the PDF file here. It's just under 500kb in size and you'll need Acrobat (on a PC) or Preview (on a Mac) to read it.

If you have a broadband internet connection - or a lot of patience with dial-up - you can listen to an audio recording of Cox's address here.

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I still remember the day I first walked into the British Library in London, some fifteen years ago, and stood dumbfounded by the scale and atmosphere of that huge circular room.

The walls, sweeping away into the distance, held more books than I had ever seen before. And the light, pouring in through the windows of the domed roof, was positively religious.

It was literature as theatre.

We've just come across a German photographer who has captured this beautifully. Candida Höfer specialises in awe-inspiring interiors, including many of the world's finest libraries (that's the Rijkmuseum library pictured, by the way).

See more of the pictures here. Does anyone have similarly beautiful photographs of New Zealand libraries?

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It's been one of those weeks, hence the lack of posting. Normal service will be resumed soon, but in the meantime, this this should raise a smile.

Hopefully it won't be taken offline any time before the auction closes in the early hours of Sunday. (And thanks for sending us the link, Mary Parker.)

Apostrophe - hardly used.

One Apostrophe. Black. 12pt. (Times New Roman) The apostrophe is hardly used and still in near-mint condition. It's great for contractions or cases of possession. It comes with a full set of instructions for use (English language version only).

The apostrophe has been sadly neglected. Lots of people have tried to use it, but nobody has really got the knack. If you buy this one and use it, I guarantee you'll come back for more.

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This bookshelf is one of the most bizarre pieces of furniture we've seen for a long, long time.

The 'Selfshelf' is a shelf with the size and appearance of a real book, rather than a plank of wood or MDF. It can be simply and invisibly attached to your wall using a supplied bracket, and used to support a pile of books.

The effect is amazing: your stack of books seems to be mysteriously glued to the wall.

The SelfShelf was created by a company called twentytwentyone, based in LeafSalon's old London stomping ground of Islington. It costs a rather reasonable £19.95.

Check twentytwentyone's rather classy website for more information.

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It gives me the greatest of pleasure to put this up as I’m having a lovely time currently dipping in and out of Are Angels OK?, one of the books just out from Victoria University Press (I'm still doing the same with Sport 34 - that Kirsten McDougall - oh my god). Imagine my delight when the lovely Heather of said venerable literary institution sent us an account written by Glenda Lewis of the Royal Society of NZ about the trip taken by herself, Paul Callaghan, Witi Ihimaera, Jo Randerson and Kim Hill to take the AAOK roadshow to the UK. They presented a session at the Cheltenham Science Festival and sessions at Cambridge and then London. This is delectable stuff, almost scratch'n'sniff, especially the river and the pub… sigh. England my England. Not.

Glenda:

Cambridge 12 June

The singular appearance of Martin Lord Rees signifies genius. Moon silver skin and hair, twisted spine and elfin insubstantiality seem consistent with a cosmological occupation. He is an oddly beautiful man (see above with Kim Hill in the drawing rooom mentioned below).

Lord Rees is President of the Royal Society of London and Master of Trinity College. He has written some of the best popular texts on cosmology including Our Cosmic Habitat and Just Six Numbers. Radio New Zealand presenter, Kim Hill, has come to Cambridge University to interview Rees, not about the cosmic Dark Age, but the odds of human civilisation surviving its own. In his 2003 survey of possible disasters, Our Final Century, he gave it a no better than 50/50 chance of lasting to 2100. His pessimism is restrained compared to Dr James Lovelock’s recent warnings about climate catastrophe.

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Goodness, it’s gone quiet in the New Zealand book world of late. Maybe folk have been shocked into silence at the news of Rachel Barrowman (pictured) nabbing a cool $100,000 from Creative New Zealand, winning the Michael King Writers’ Fellowship to write a bio of Maurice Gee.

Maybe it’s the calm before the storm of the impending Montanas. Perhaps everyone’s gone on holiday, like we just did. Or perhaps no-one reads books any more ..?

To explain that sudden, sweeping generalisation: we have just spent a few blissfully sunny days at Matheson Bay, with offspring, relatives and books for company. (I tackled the second half of Chad Taylor’s Departure Lounge; Kathy ploughed through Audrey Niffenegger’s The Time Traveler's Wife.)

The high point was a visit to Ascension, one of the less snooty Matakana vineyards. The food was as good as the wine: the platter of locally produced farmhouse cheeses - accompanied by a nut confit wrapped in vine leaves – was sublime.

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We're suckers for book-related furniture and our first glimpse of the Bibliochaise had us scrabbling around for an online currency converter.

The concept is pretty obvious from the picture, and according to the slightly wonky translation on the Italian website, the chair holds five linear metres of books. Whatver that is, it sounds enough. There's an air of Frank Lloyd Wright about this design, although we suspect that the chair is not built for comfort. And you'd definitely have to watch your shins after a couple of glasses of amontillado.

The Bibliochase has been created by a Milano company called Nobody & Co., and they also offer a rather fetching bookcase called Piola. Check their (less than intuitive) website for more information.

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Couldn’t resist pillaging the winning submissions to a Washington Post neologism contest, in which readers are asked to supply alternate meanings for common words.

A bit of light relief while you desperately try to think up the winning entry to LeafSalon’s first competition: suggest a name for the movie script of William Brandt’s The Book of the Film of the Story of My Life (details in the second comment in the entry below, keep 'em comin' …).

Anyway, in case you haven't seen these before, the winners were:

1. Coffee (n.), the person upon whom one coughs.
2. Flabbergasted (adj.), appalled over how much weight you have gained.
3. Abdicate (v.), to give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach.
4. Esplanade (v.), to attempt an explanation while drunk.
5. Willy-nilly (adj.), impotent.
6. Negligent (adj.), describes a condition in which you absent-mindedly answer the door in your nightgown.
7. Lymph (v.), to walk with a lisp.
8. Gargoyle (n.), olive-flavored mouthwash.
9. Flatulence (n.) emergency vehicle that picks you up after you are run over by a steamroller.
10. Balderdash (n.), a rapidly receding hairline.
11. Testicle (n.), a humorous question on an exam.
12. Rectitude (n.), the formal, dignified bearing adopted by proctologists.
13. Pokemon (n), a Rastafarian proctologist.
14. Oyster (n.), a person who sprinkles his conversation with Yiddishisms.
15. Frisbeetarianism (n.), (back by popular demand): The belief that, when you die, your Soul flies up onto the roof and gets stuck there.
16. Circumvent (n.), an opening in the front of boxer shorts worn by Jewish men.

The newspaper’s ‘Style Invitational’ also asked readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or changing one letter, and supply a new definition:

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Nearly two years ago, we reported on Sony's attempt to create a breakthrough e-book reader, the Librié.

The report began, 'The world of electronic books has seen many false dawns.' Well, here's another one: the Librié is already dead, and replaced by a new model called the Reader.

This one measures 17.5cm x 12.4cm x 1.4cm, making it a teeny bit smaller, and it has a six-inch 'electronic paper' display. To our eyes, it doesn't look as sexy as the first one, but the new Reader can display PDF files and JPEG images as well as electronic books. Books will be sold through the Sony Connect online store - similar to Apple's iTunes store - which is accessed via a computer.

Sony will start shipping the reader in April, with a price tag between US$299 and $399, and around 10,000 books are said to be available. Could this be the literary equivalent of the iPod?

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