This week’s Top Ten Tuesday prompt from The Broke and the Bookish is a freebie, and seeing as I’ve recently come to the UK for a year of study, I thought I’d use this opportunity to share my list of top literary places I’d like to visit while I’m here. Whether I’ll be able to visit all (or any) of these remains to be seen; but like all travelling bookworms, I dream big.
As promised in my last post, I’ve got some juicy tidbits to share from my recent trip to Turkey and Greece. But before I get ahead of myself, I need to finish up the British leg of my journey. I spent an amazing few days in London before Christmas. Of course, not everything I did there was literary-themed. So I’ve decided to write a little recap of my book-related activities, partly because I like to stick to themes and partly because at the rate I’m going now I wouldn’t be done recounting my entire trip until next Christmas. So, here goes:
London, Day 3: The British Library
The British Library isn’t a particularly pretty building from the outside. It’s certainly nothing to the imposing grandeur of, say, the British Museum. But much like one should never judge a book by its cover, the really important stuff is on the inside. The British Library apparently adds about three million titles to their shelves every year, as well as receiving a copy of every book printed in the UK and Ireland. Which is quite a sobering thought when I consider the full-to-bursting state of my Ikea bookshelf back home. Three million books makes my own space-related problems seem pea-sized in comparison.
A lot of people don’t like revisiting cities they’ve already seen. I’m the opposite; I feel that once you’ve visited the famous landmarks – all the things every tourist ‘has to see’ – you’re free to see some more out of the way, unexpected things. This is especially true in big European cities. I don’t think one visit is ever enough for places like London, Paris, or Rome. On my first full day in London, and I was eager to see something a little ‘off the beaten track’. So I decided to spend the day on Hampstead Heath. Luckily, the Heath has a great deal to offer in the literature way.
I started by making the trek to Highgate Cemetery, where quite a few notable people are buried. Karl Marx is probably the most famous name; his statue’s bulbous head (about three-quarters of which is just beard) is on the front of the map they gave me in the little shed-like entrance house. I, however, was most eager to see the grave of Mary Ann Evans, also known as Mary Ann Cross, also known as George Eliot, the famous nineteenth century novelist.
I’ve always felt a little uncomfortable visiting cemeteries and taking pictures of graves; as if my tourist’s nosiness is somehow least excusable when photographing monuments under which people are buried. But it was a beautiful, sunny day, and Eliot’s grave is in a nice little spot. I actually passed by it the first time; two women were lighting candles on one of the graves and I thought it would be rude to intrude on their private moment. When I returned ten minutes later, I found that the candles they had been lighting had, in fact, been for Eliot’s grave. It was a sweet gesture, and testament to her influence across the generations.