If he hadn't been so tired, ... he might have seen at the start that he was setting out on a journey that would change his life forever and chosen to turn back.
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READIN
READIN started out as a place for me
to keep track of what I am reading, and to learn (slowly, slowly)
how to design a web site.
There has been some mission drift
here and there, but in general that's still what it is. Some of
the main things I write about here are
reading books,
listening to (and playing) music, and
watching the movies. Also I write about the
work I do with my hands and with my head; and of course about bringing up Sylvia.
The site is a bit of a work in progress. New features will come on-line now and then; and you will occasionally get error messages in place of the blog, for the forseeable future. Cut me some slack, I'm just doing it for fun! And if you see an error message you think I should know about, please drop me a line. READIN source code is PHP and CSS, and available on request, in case you want to see how it works.
See my reading list for what I'm interested in this year.
READIN has been visited approximately 236,737 times since October, 2007.
At the dark doorways
they dinned and hammered;
there was clang of swords
and crash of axes.
The smiths of battle
smote the anvils;
sparked and splintered
spears and helmets.
In they hacked them,
out they hurled them;
bears assailing,
boars defending.
Stones and stairways
streamed and darkened;
day came dimly --
the doors were held.
Speaking of forthcoming books by authors who no longer walk among us: Painterofblue sent along a link to an interview with Christopher Tolkien about his father's book The Legend of Sigurd and Gudrún, which is coming off the presses today. I had heard that this book would be coming out; what I did not know is that it's an epic poem. This seems extremely daring to me, and it could possibly be great.* It sort of magnifies my perception of how important world-creation and history-creation was to Tolkien; I would not have thought of it but obviously if you're making up the history of a civilization, you've got to give it epic verse.
Elizabeth Hand reviews the book for the Washington Post, and says, "Perhaps more than any other single work of Tolkien's, this one provides a direct experience of the fierce intellect and imagination that produced 'the author of the century,' as British scholar T.A. Shippey called him."
* Thinking a little more about this: in epic verse, the difficulties I had with LOTR would fall away completely (assuming the verse was well done) -- it's no longer an issue whether I can believe the dialog and the motivations, and I'll be able to pay attention exclusively to the imagery and themes -- I liked LOTR best when I was reading this way.
Ellen has a new article up at South Orange Patch, about the house tour she went to on Saturday. Every spring there is a tour of some notable houses in town -- looks like fun!
posted evening of May 5th, 2009: Respond ➳ More posts about Ellen
Exciting news comes my way today -- I had heard that a new edition of Cosmicomics was being published; today at The Quarterly Conversation, Scott Esposito has more information: the book will include Cosmicomics stories Calvino published throughout his career, more than half of which are not in the previous English edition of Cosmicomics, and 7 of which are appearing for the first time in English. (One of these was published in February at The New Yorker; and two more are in the current Harper's, only accessible to subscribers.) It has been many years since I read these stories, I'm really looking forward to rereading and to the new ones.
The moon is old, Qfwfq agreed, pitted with holes, worn out. Rolling naked through the skies, it erodes and loses its flesh like a bone that's been gnawed. This is not the first time that such a thing has happened. I remember moons that were even older and more battered than this one; I've seen loads of these moons, seen them being born and running across the sky and dying out, one punctured by hail from shooting stars, another exploding from all its craters, and yet another oozing drops of topaz-colored sweat that evaporated immediately, then being covered by greenish clouds and reduced to a dried-up, spongy shell.
The story I posted about below, "Asemblea los martes" by Slavko Zupcic, is just lovely to read aloud and listen, without the stream of language being fully comprehensible at reading-aloud speed. This is like the experiences I was having with recordings of spoken Spanish earlier this year -- or like reading e.g. Faulkner or Pynchon can be, where I slip in and out of understanding language as sentences containing meaning, and hearing language as melodic, rhythmic bits of sound.* So all this is keeping in mind Dave Barber's post from Thursday, "What We Lose in Growing Up" -- the way that post resonates for me is with my constant need to craft a narrative that justifies what I'm doing, that points out how I am productively enabling my development into a better person. I was thinking, the moment of joy in the reading aloud, the unreflective perceiving language as sound, is a moment where this narrative is absent; what I'm doing now is constructing the narrative around that moment, where what I'd really like to be able to do is to communicate the moment of rapture. Not quite sure where to go from that...
Porque sí. Porque ya hemos enviado las tarjetas. Porque las invitaciones quedaron bellísimas. Porque les pusimos los cruasanes míos y las tamaras de Ernesto. Porque las hicimos con cartulina rosada. Porque les dibujamos corazones por todas partes. ...
Sylvia checked out an old back issue of National Geographic Kids from the library because it has an article about Harry Potter; she walked into the room saying "Hobbits look like monkeys!" (not rabbits...) The magazine has an article about Homo Floresiensis, with an artist's rendering of "what real-life hobbits looked like." <grin>...
posted afternoon of May third, 2009: Respond ➳ More posts about Sylvia
Relaciones, visitas y olanzapina para todas, por favor.
The highlight of this issue of Zoetrope: All-Story is certainly the last story, "Tuesday Meetings" by Slavko Zupcic. It's the story of Benedict's drive-by benediction of a mental institution, as told by the inmates of the institution; specifically by schizophrenic René, who publishes the Haloperidol Eye with minutes of their Tuesday meetings with Ismael, the resident psychiatrist. The story is complex, dense, subtle, and hilariously funny; I'm not going to write about it right now because I'm still a fair ways away from understanding the Spanish text, but hopefully will return to it later on. This story by itself is worth the price of the issue; I'm definitely thinking about seeking out some of Zupcic's other work. I see he has written a book billed as a "children's novel", Giuliana Labolita: el caso de Pepe Toledo -- who knows? that might be right at my reading level. This story does not seem to be available online (no, this is wrong: the story is readable in English only at Zoetrope's site); another story of his, "Réquiem" can be read at piedepágina.com.
posted afternoon of May third, 2009: Respond ➳ More posts about Readings
The stories in this issue of Zoetrope: All-Story are getting better and more absorbing as I work my way through the magazine -- probably a product of my growing focus and attention. I just finished reading (for the third time, I think I've got it now) Antonio Ungar's "Hypothetically" (online here) -- it reminded me a bit of Waiting for Godot except with only a single tramp. It's a brief (5-page) fable about wanting to change one's circumstances, but in the end just going on. It takes place in three scenes: the narrator's friend Pierre witnesses a brutal argument ending in murder in the house next door; he fantasizes about leaving London and his job and changing his life; then a month later he is with his friends, celebrating a new 2-year contract from his employer, talking about moving in with his girlfriend and applying for British citizenship. In the last sentences he turns to the narrator "como preguntando algo"; his friend can only "inclinar un poco la cabeza y felicitarlo, con la copa arriba, ensayando la mejor de mis sonrisas."
This fable runs the risk of being over-determined -- a similar story has been written often enough that if Ungar dwelled too much on the framework of the fable, it would be boring and trite. But I get the impression he knows this -- most of the story is the first scene, quickly setting up Pierre's life and thoughts and then describing the argument and the crime with a keen realism which contrasts nicely with Pierre's detachment. The second and third scenes are quite brief and work really well this way -- Ungar does not spend time driving his point home, and because he passes it so lightly along, its impact is much greater.
The NY Timesreviews the Roundabout Theater's production of Waiting for Godot today. It sounds great, and makes me happy I'm going to see it in a few weeks. Lots of cool photos at the link (under "Multimedia"); I especially like this picture:
Gogo, Pozzo, Didi -- Didi's expression is just fantastic.
(Unrelatedly, happy May Day, everyone! Solidarity!)
I just noticed a pretty cool, subtle optical illusion. This photo was clearly taken by a camera in front of the stage, on approximately the same level as John Goodman's midriff. But if you look at it the right way, it's easy to convince yourself that the camera was in the air, looking down at the trio at a fairly sharp angle. Try it out, see what you think. (Works best if you are only looking at the upper ¾ of the photo.)
And with springtime come the obligatory garden pictures. Everything is green and colorful and pleasant. (Miriam came over on Sunday and we cooked hot dogs and eggplant on the barbecue, and drank too much of Connie's margueritas.)
Ellen has a new article up at 
previous English edition of Cosmicomics, and 7 of which are appearing for the first time in English. (One of these was published in February at 
with minutes of their Tuesday meetings with Ismael, the resident psychiatrist. The story is complex, dense, subtle, and hilariously funny; I'm not going to write about it right now because I'm still a fair ways away from understanding the Spanish text, but hopefully will return to it later on. This story by itself is worth the price of the issue; I'm definitely thinking about seeking out some of Zupcic's other work. I see he has written a book billed as a "children's novel", Giuliana Labolita: el caso de Pepe Toledo -- who knows? that might be right at my reading level. This story does not seem to be available online (no, this is wrong: the story is readable in English only at 
