Jun. 9th, 2015 04:14 pm
A change of light
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muckefuckApparently there are fires burning all over the Prairie Provinces today. How this became apparent to me is the strange haze floating between us and the sun this morning. At first I thought it was just fog, but the odd quality of the light falling on the sidewalks was unmistakable. It looked very much like the light from the type of low-pressure sodium streetlamps favoured by the City of Chicago. But that light is cool, whereas whenever I stepped out of the shade on my route, my skin immediately felt warm--you know, like from regular sunlight. It was all a bit uncanny.
Somehow I managed to forget what time I actually left the house and very nearly missed the shuttle, which had already pulled out but was stopped at the next light. I ran without dignity and caught it. The driver was amused. "I'm feeling generous today." For the second week in a row, it wasn't the regular guy, so I guess he's found a new shift? Fortunately, he's as good a driver, if not better, so it'll be my own fault if I continue not to get any reading done.
I'm near the end of my book of Basque short stories and pondering what to start next. In the interim, I polished off a collection of four short pieces by Bessie Head and Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o. One of these read like a selection from Petals of blood but wasn't identified as such. Then again, the prefatory material was pretty useless (except for getting a biographical sketch of Head, who wasn't on my radar before).
I kind of want to start Detectivos salvajes instead. Diego told me he's reading it (which is odd--I thought he'd read it already) and it took only a few pages to remind me what a terrific writer Bolaño is. I kinda wanna finish the Rodoreda first because I'm closer than I've ever been in nearly thirty years. I could read both, of course, but doing both Spanish and Catalan simultaneously seems like a recipe for certain confusion.
Somehow I managed to forget what time I actually left the house and very nearly missed the shuttle, which had already pulled out but was stopped at the next light. I ran without dignity and caught it. The driver was amused. "I'm feeling generous today." For the second week in a row, it wasn't the regular guy, so I guess he's found a new shift? Fortunately, he's as good a driver, if not better, so it'll be my own fault if I continue not to get any reading done.
I'm near the end of my book of Basque short stories and pondering what to start next. In the interim, I polished off a collection of four short pieces by Bessie Head and Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o. One of these read like a selection from Petals of blood but wasn't identified as such. Then again, the prefatory material was pretty useless (except for getting a biographical sketch of Head, who wasn't on my radar before).
I kind of want to start Detectivos salvajes instead. Diego told me he's reading it (which is odd--I thought he'd read it already) and it took only a few pages to remind me what a terrific writer Bolaño is. I kinda wanna finish the Rodoreda first because I'm closer than I've ever been in nearly thirty years. I could read both, of course, but doing both Spanish and Catalan simultaneously seems like a recipe for certain confusion.