Brief book reviews and book-related posts. I’m reading and reflecting instead of pursuing a formal MFA. || Header image: Reconciliation Elegy, R. Motherwell
Wearing out my post-its on this glorious thing (Solenoid by Mircea Cărtărescu). I haven’t been this eager about a novel since Septology or White Noise.
I’m listening to Allegri’s Miserere Mei, Deus with new ears because my own child recommended it to me. He’s 700 miles away and takes time to talk to his mom. Lord, have mercy.
I love the fable-like weaving of dreamscape into the narrative here, as though subconscious were just as essential to a story as sensory experience (Solenoid by Mircea Cărtărescu). Why shouldn’t dreams live in the light?
I caused a smoll stir at the library yesterday when I inquired into my ILL of Darconville’s Cat. It’s gone missing (doubtless stolen and sold off) from the first network the library queried. I told them it can fetch $300 on eBay. “What is this book?!” A couple librarians asked…
I’ve been reading at a snail’s pace, but enjoying it more. It’s Woolf Day and I’m torn between more bio or more of her essays. Fascinating how she aimed at stream of consciousness in a 1920s essay, heralding a new type of novel.
My college kid told me to run, not walk, to the local and read Alice Oswald’s Memorial in one sitting, like he did. Assignment accepted. 2.3 hours until the bookstore opens.
Last week I saw a couple books I’d put in local free libraries at the local used bookstore for sale. I bought a different book, Circe by Madeline Miller. An illustrious circle of book economy, complete.