Long Weekend - One Third Over

I'm trying to stretch out the first day of the long weekend just a bit longer, but I may give up and go to bed soon...

Actually, I sort of started off with some strange goings-on on Friday.  I worked a bit later that I wanted, then went over to Union Station.  I was going to grab some sushi, but Kibo Market had closed early and pretty much everything else was closing as well.  So annoying.  Then I dropped off some material at Robarts.  I thought it might be open, but I guess classes don't official start until next week, and at that point the library hours might get adjusted.  Anyway, I went over to Ossington, since I was going to see Rocky Horror Picture Show at the Paradise.  For the longest time it was literally impossible to watch this except in the theatre, and I just never got around to going to the Village North in Chicago.  But in the early 90s, it became possible to rent it, and I watched it with some friends (in Toronto actually).  So it isn't that I didn't know the basic plot of the film, but I had never seen it with a shadow cast and all the audience participation.  

I had planned on eating at an Ethiopian place up there (as I was pretty hungry by this point), but they had taken the whole weekend off!  So I walked over to an Indian place that I had seen the last time I was over there.  It was ok, but really a bit too spicy, so I don't think I'll go back.  Anyway, seeing the Rocky Horror Picture Show was interesting, though it's not something I'm likely to do again, though apparently they do this every week or so (though not at the Paradise...).

Here's a few of the shadow cast before the film (with 'Rocky' and then 'Janet' on the right).

Here are a few moments from the film with the shadow cast in action.

It was interesting, though quite distracting.  I realize you are going for the "experience" and not actually to watch the film, but a lot of talking back at the screen felt canned and eventually almost like "forced fun," esp. the constant reference to the no-neck narrator.  I'm not sorry I went, but it isn't something I need to do again.

I was pretty busy after all on Sat.  I started off by dropping off a book at the library, then continuing on to the Regent Park Pool.  I managed to get 21 or so laps in (so I'm pretty close to my pre-COVID swimming routine).  Then I soaked in the hot water tub for a while.

Originally, I had planned to go back to Gerrard Square, but instead I pushed on and biked downtown.  I stopped off at BMV.  I didn't have anything to sell, but I did pick up a book of Orwell's essays, a copy of Canetti's Auto da Fé and Plymell's Benzadrine Highway, which is a now forgotten early Beat work.  I actually have the Canetti already, but this was a nice (if somewhat yellowed) compact Penguin version, and the other one can go out into the Little Free Library.

I stopped briefly in at the AGO, though I didn't go upstairs.  I wanted to ask something about their membership cards, and find out what time they would be open on Monday.  I made a lightening quick stop at Bau-Xi across the road, then biked over to 401 Richmond.  Yumart is no longer there, as the gallery owner retired, but there is still a lot to see.

This time around, I thought Abbozzo Gallery was the most interesting.  The main space had large paintings by Olex Wlasenko representing scenes from black and white movies, and then the side space had an exhibit of quirky paintings by Cora Brittan.  Many of these look like they could be taken from a children's book.  Here are a few I particularly liked:

Cora Brittan, March of the Dragons, 2011

Cora Brittan, Returning to the Nest, 2015

Cora Brittan, The Beautiful Blue Ladder, 2022

I am leaning towards buying the last one (featuring a cat in some magical outdoor garden space).*  I actually know where I would hang it, which is becoming a bit of an issue actually.  In about three weeks, I pick up the framed Janvier piece (and another poster I had framed for my wife).  I have decided to hang the Janvier piece in the living room, but then need to figure out where the piece hanging there needs to go.  It might actually fit right about the door to my study.  But in general, I have run out of places for art.  Perhaps not such a bad thing if it means I stop buying art I can barely afford...

Then I finally biked back to Gerrard Square.  I stopped in at the gym to see if my lock had turned up, as I left it behind on my last trip (last Thurs. actually when I was making a bit of a push to start going to the gym twice a week again).  They didn't have it, so I ran down to Walmart and got a new one, but now I need to memorize the combination.  Sigh.

I did manage to get some reading in** (outside on the lower deck) and cleaned up some computer files.  However, I never got around to watching any movies.  My plan had tentatively been to watch A Woman Under the Influence on Sat., then Altman's Three Women on Sunday and Opening Night on Monday.  This would close out my homage to Duvall and Rowlands.

I also futzed around for a while trying to watch this new Netflix series called Kaos, which is getting strong reviews, but we can't watch Netflix downstairs because the receiver is incompatible with Netflix!  Either I get something called the Bellstreamer or I get the Roku to work.  Neither of which is terribly appealing, but I guess I'll try.  I'm still beyond frustrated that MailStore and Bell aren't talking to each other, due to some changes Bell has made to its internal workings.  Now this recent TV breakdown may be more the fault of Netflix than Bell, but I'm still super annoyed.  To round things out, I had so many issues trying to log into Paypal that I gave up (for now).  So maybe not the best way to end the first day of a long weekend.

I'm sort of working it through, but I think I will go to the AGO and stop in at work today and then see if I can get up to Aga Khan on Monday, though I need to either sign out a museum pass from TPL or get the Canoo app working on my phone.  (Which in turn reminds me that there is an upcoming concert for Skye Wallace, but the only way to get tickets to show at the door is to download a completely new app.  Sometimes the modern world is so incredibly frustrating...)  And now it is long past time for bed if I am going to get anything accomplished the rest of the weekend.

* I'm sure this is just another way of trying to stave off the cravings for a cat (or kitten).  I brought a fake sleeping cat a few months back for the same reasons.  But only a few nights ago, I dreamed that we had five black and white kittens.  I know very well I am forgetting the downsides of having a cat, particularly the fact that I don't have a car, and I don't think there are any vets in walking distance.  This was always a huge issue in Chicago.  (Having just written that, I am probably going to go look it up and see if there are any vets closer than the one on King and Sumach.)

** I'd like to finish up Cela's The Hive this weekend, but it isn't my highest priority.  It's been sidelined to some degree by a lot of poetry that I was working my way through.  I do expect to be travelling out to Stratford once and perhaps even twice in September, so I can tackle a longer book.  I'm currently deciding between DuPont's The American Fiancée and Powers's The Gold Bug Variations.  Well, whichever I don't take, I'll probably take on the next trip out to Edmonton...

Missing Shields

This will be a bit of a grab-bag of a post.  I did have a slightly late start but did get over to the gym in the late morning.  I managed to finally get everything ready to head over to the library around 2.  I went over to the Reference Library first.  

I thought the small exhibit they had on treasures from their various collections was pretty nice.  I may circle back and add a photo or two.

Anyway, then I went into the used book store they have on the first floor.  I picked up two novels by Carol Shields and two poetry collections for $4!  If I hadn't been carrying a bunch of other things, I could have stocked up more for the library in the front yard.  Some other time...

I had thought I had a bit of a handle on Carol Shields, but there was one I sort of vaguely remember but have never read (The Republic of Love) and then one I had never heard of (Happenstance), which is actually two novels in one about a marriage, written from the man's perspective and the woman's perspective.  This actually isn't even the first time she's done this.  She co-wrote A Celibate Season with Blanche Howard, doing the exact same thing.  After poking around on her website, it looks like I probably should read Small Ceremonies, A Celibate Season, Happenstance and The Republic of Love (the latter two are the ones I just picked up).  I was planning on rereading Larry's Party at some point, and probably to round things out I should reread The Stone Diaries, which I read roughly 20 years ago and don't really remember.

I was able to skim through Jane Mayhall's Sleeping Late on Judgment Day, which was ostensibly the reason for the visit in the first place.

I then went over to Robarts and did a bit of scanning and downloading of articles (this time all about high speed rail).  Of course, I picked up a bunch of poetry collections.  When will I ever learn?  They are mostly by David Slavitt and Tom Sleigh, neither of whom I am familiar with.

It was just about five by this point, so I shot over to Dufferin.  It was just starting to rain, so I ducked into the Banh Mi shop.  Usually if I am seeing a film at Paradise, I either go there or to an Ethiopian restaurant nearby, though I should perhaps check out this Indian place or even Gus's Tacos.  It really poured for about 15 minutes, while I was eating, but the rain did slow down.

I went in to Paradise and watched Round Midnight.  I saw this around its first release back in 1987.  I'm pretty sure I even picked up the movie poster and had it in my dorm room for a while, but I may be misremembering.  I do remember I had Dali's Narcissus poster on the walls for a long time.

There are a lot of great musical moments throughout the movie, maybe the best being Dexter and crew at the recording session where they are doing Herbie's take on Round Midnight.  It was really incredible seeing Hancock, Wayne Shorter, Bobby Hutcherson and Freddie Hubbard at their peak.  I think Herbie is probably the only one left from that crowd.  I recognized Bobby when he was playing the vibes in the club but didn't realize he also played the character Ace, who was always cooking something and said that Paris would be Paradise if he could only find some okra.  Oddly enough, they ran this without subtitles, probably because it isn't until close to 45 minutes in that you really need them, and by then it was too late to go back and restart the film.  For the most part it didn't matter, but there were 3 or 4 scenes I would have really liked the subtitles, particularly when Francis is arguing with his estranged wife.  C'est la vie...

One interesting bit of news is that there was a fire in Somerset House.  I double-checked, and this is where the Courtauld Gallery is housed.  I had terrible visions of the many, many masterpieces there going up in flames.  It turns out that the fire was in a part of Somerset House somewhat distant from Courtauld, and no paintings seem to have been damaged, which is fantastic.  Of course, paintings are not as important as people (with the exception of Trump and Putin where the world will be infinitely better with their passing), but I was very glad to hear the Gallery had been spared (and indeed is open for visits without missing a beat).  Of all the many amazing paintings there, I think Manet's A Bar at the Folies-Bergère is my favourite.

Since I was on the TTC a fair bit today (and actually last Monday on a trip over to the west side, only to find out that SFYS has shuttered its doors for the immediate future), I have almost wrapped up Baldwin's Go Tell It On the Mountain.  With one more push, I should be finished with it, and then I shall move on to Cela's The Hive.

But it's probably time for bed now...

Missing Movies

It looks like work got the best of me, and I kind of dropped the ball.  On Wed. there was a movie I had kind of wanted to see at the Paradise in the Queer Cinema Club series.  This was called Saving Face (2004), which is about a closeted Chinese-American woman who finds out that her mother has secrets of her own.  I'm sorry I didn't make it there, as I generally enjoy watching movies at the Paradise, but it turns out that Robarts does have a copy, so I put a hold on that.  At the moment, Paradise is doing a run of movies celebrating music, so I could see Round Midnight tomorrow.  It's not a great movie by any means, but it does offer up an opportunity to see late-career Dexter Gordon.  I might go, but it isn't a high priority.  I think Saving Face would have been more interesting.  They are running Basic Instinct right after it, and in some ways that might be more compelling, but I'm still not sure I'd go.  At the end of the month (Aug. 30), they are showing Rocky Horror Picture Show and there will be a shadow cast doing the whole "routine."  I had a few chances to see this in Chicago when I lived near the Village North but never did.  Maybe I will go this time around.

It looks like yesterday was the last night to see Dazed and Confused for $5 at Carlton Cinema.  There are a few other things I missed out there including Repo Man and Heavy Metal back in the winter.  It looks like this week I could catch Magnolia for $5, and I might do that, but it isn't a super high priority, so I might work on some other things this weekend.

I wish there was an easy way to get in touch with the programmers at the Paradise.  I would really like them to do a double-feature to celebrate Geena Rowlands.  I am planning on watching Faces tonight and then A Woman Under the Influence tomorrow or Sunday (depending on whether I do go over to the Paradise on Sat.).  But it would be way, way better if they did it.  Also, they recently screened Nashville shortly before Shelley Duvall died, and I think they ought to run Altman's Three Women.  Again, I have a copy on request at the library, but I would certainly prefer to see it on the big screen.

I'm kind of fed up with TIFF at the moment.  They recently revealed to me just how stupid their membership policies are.  Because they get no money for retrospective screenings (because members scarf up all the tickets within minutes of them being announced), they are just showing them upstairs in the theatres that don't have enough seats.  Even non-fanatic members struggle to actually book a ticket, and for non-members who would actually pay for a ticket, they are shut out completely.  So bonkers.  I am definitely not renewing my membership under the current regime.

So for once, I don't really have a lot of confirmed plans for the weekend, but I am sure I will find enough things to do.*  If it weren't for the rain in the forecast, I might actually do a bit of weeding and tree trimming, not that I really am eager to do that, but it should be done.

Update (8/17): I guess I am just a philistine.  I got about halfway into Faces and had to stop.  I really dislike this movie, in large part because I would spend exactly zero time in the company of these boisterous drunks.  While they are much more on the depressive side, I suspect I'll feel the same way about the drug-addicted characters in Withnail and I, and I have avoided watching it for that reason.  I suppose I will try to force myself to get through Faces tonight, but I will never watch it a second time.  So far, I haven't liked the Herzog feature I have seen (Fitzcarraldo), though his documentaries are more appealing.  I pretty much always like Japanese films (with the exception of Ozu's Good Morning!) and generally Bergman, so perhaps I don't need to hand in my film snob badge just yet...)

* For one thing, I'll have to go back to Robarts.  I got off to a slightly late start leaving work, and I didn't get there until 5:40.  I knew they closer earlier on Fridays, particularly in the summer, but I assumed it was 6:30 or 7.  No!  They close at 6, so it was a completely wasted trip.  I didn't manage to get a single thing done there.  So frustrating.

I also still need to get over to the framers to have my Alex Janvier painting framed, but it is quite likely to rain, and I obviously don't want to risk it getting damaged, so I think I'll wait yet another week and hope the weather cooperates next weekend.  We shall see...

Slow-Start Weekend

I suppose in the scheme of things, I wasn't so slow off the mark Saturday.  I actually was up doing a few things, but I had decided that I wanted to go swimming at the Regent Park pool, since it has the hot tub, which I thought might help break up the junk in my lungs a bit more.  I don't feel all that bad, but I am having some trouble sleeping, which then means I drag a bit throughout the rest of the day.

I ended up setting out around 11:30, but I stopped off at the library first, so I could pick up a book called Gods of Angkor.  One of the more interesting things at the Royal Alberta Museum was the main exhibit on Angkor Wat, which was recently extended through Jan. 2025.  I've seen a few smaller exhibits on Angkor Wat, but this was the most extensive I have seen in person.  I have to admit, I wasn't terribly impressed with this museum* or the Art Gallery of Alberta, though both had some nice paintings by Alex Janvier.  The story behind Blood Tears is quite sad, and I did manage to make time to sit through the video where Janvier discussed his time in Canada's residential schools.

Alex Janvier, Blood Tears, 2001

I made it to the pool just slightly after noon, and it was going to close at 1!  I managed to get about 10 laps in, and I was hoping to get in a few more, but the medium speed lane was pretty clogged up and frustrating (for me anyway), and I definitely wanted to make sure I got in the hot tub, so I gave up a bit early.  I definitely could have swum another 10 minutes, but they have removed the clock, so that doesn't help!

I wandered over to the park next to the pool, and there was some sort of First Nations gathering and art fair.  I had on a fairly innocuous Canada t-shirt, but it did feel out of place there...

I then biked over to TMU.  I didn't go into the Image Centre today, but I did stop and got a mango lassi, and then briefly stopped in a BMV but didn't buy anything.  I then biked over to Robarts.  I had one book to pick up, and I had a bit of time to read before I went off to work.  At the moment, I am reading Frederick Seigel, who has a reputation for being a somewhat boorish/brutal poet.  I probably will have to find the time to read through the full Cosmos Trilogy and see what I think.  I also read Andrea Cohen's The Sorrow Apartments.  While I was there, I was able to borrow a few other books by Andrea Cohen, though it does appear that Long Division is not in either TPL or Robarts (and is essentially OOP).  I'm going to try not to stress too much about the fact that I can't track this down, as it is an early collection.  From what I've read/skimmed so far she is a lesbian poet who often "passes" as straight and this can lead to odd situations.  I liked her "Propeller" poem but it was a bit too long for my transportation poetry anthology.  I will probably spend the most time with her collection Nightshade, and this is the one that has the highest overlap with my current pre-occupations.  I did like this short poem called "Fellow Traveler": "She went everywhere / with an empty suitcase. // You never know when / you'll need to leave // swiftly with nothing."

After this, I went down to work.  I mostly was there to do some GIS analysis, since I find it a hassle to get the VPN running from home.  Actually, I did stop in at Bau-Xi on the way there, but didn't have time to run into the AGO.

They have a relatively new artist under their wing, Laurent Chéhère.  I thought his work was droll, though I would be a lot more likely to get a poster rather than trying to acquire the original.

Laurent Chéhère, Vertigo

While I probably should have pushed on and typed up my bus playlet, I just didn't have the energy.  (I think this will be the same story tonight, sadly.)

I actually did sleep in quite late on Sunday, and finally was ready to leave the house around 11.  I went over to the gym first, and put in an almost full routine.  I have started in on Baldwin's Go Tell It on the Mountain.  I've read a fair bit of Ellison (what there is at least) and some Richard Wright and then even some secondary figures like John A. Williams (and now Thomas's Man Gone Down), but I have not read much of Baldwin, so I hope to correct that this year.

I picked up groceries on the way home.  While it was sprinkling on the morning, it had cleared up, so I biked like mad down to the Toronto Music Garden to see a show at 4.  I actually got there with 15 minutes to spare, only to find that they had cancelled it due to "the weather."  As far as I can tell, Moneka Arabic Jazz did go on last Thurs., when it was a lot more threatening.  So this was a pretty major disappointment.  I will try to get back there two Sundays from now when there will be a  percussion group from UT performing Reich and some other pieces.  I certainly hope the weather cooperates this time around.

I biked up Spadina (not fun!) and stopped in at BMV.  They bought my copy of the Heptameron and pretty much all the CDs I had (including a few from the bargain bin at Cop's!).  I swung by Robarts and picked up another book.  It was 5, so I thought there was a decent chance the Reference Library would be open, since it doesn't open until 1:30 on Sunday.  Surely it would be open until 5:30 or 6.  Wrong!  It closes at 5, which makes absolutely no sense, particularly from a staffing perspective.  Who wants to show up for a 3.5 hour shift?  So that was quite annoying, and I'll have to find time to get over there some other time.

I basically read the rest of the evening, and tried to clean up some computer files.  I probably should try to get one more thing done for work, and then if I have the energy, perhaps I will type up my latest submission for SFYS, even though it will be going in for the Sept. edition at this point.

* The guy at the gift shop said that all the actual dinosaur bones are restricted to the Royal Tyrrell Museum just outside of Drumheller.  Sad. 

Wrapping Up the Long Weekend

Sadly I never did get to just sit outside and read.  I had planned on doing that today, but it sprinkled a bit in the morning, and then rained pretty much non-stop from mid-afternoon to 8 pm.  I finally went out for a short walk after the rain stopped, but it was too dark and damp to sit outside and read.  Too bad.  I also had thought I might swing by the Rex, but that is definitely out as well.

I spent far more time than I expected in going through old stacks of newspapers, as they had become a health and safety hazard.  I also rearranged a bunch of boxes and looked through them for missing books.  In the end, I did turn up Cela's The Hive and another couple of books that had been misplaced.  Yea!  I also added Kennedy's Ironweed to the stack of short books that I am prioritizing.  I did not find a book on COVID that I had hoped would turn up, and now I am wondering if I loaned it to someone.

I'm going to have to go through a similar process for CDs, since there are a few missing items from a box set (and I can't sell it off with anything missing).  I probably should book a staycation just to get through everything, but it won't be for a while now.  I'll see if I can slowly take other CDs and DVDs to BMV and make a bit more space for this cleaning operation.  On the flip side, I picked up some CDs from the bargain bins at Kop's Records up on the Danforth, but a couple of disks were missing from the Red Nichols' Brunswick Sessions, but they actually are available on iTunes, so at least I could listen to the music.  When I have absorbed the music, I'll probably put everything out in the Little Free Library out in front.

I actually did have to do a bit more work than I expected today, but that's nothing new, I guess.  

The one thing that I would like to tackle is to write up my mini-epic about the Greyhound bus ride.  I think I have missed the deadline for submissions to this month's SFYS, but I should just write it up and get it in and then turn my attention to something else.

It may be worth mentioning that I got over to the TMU Image Centre (just before my trek over to BMV), as well as TIFF twice this weekend.  I saw Werner Herzog's Fitzcarraldo.  I'll just say that aside from the dragging the boat up over the mountain, I didn't like this much at all.  It is definitely too long, and the ending makes absolutely no sense.  

SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS

We're shown the maps time and again, and the Pongo rapids are miles and miles north of the large tract that Fitzgerald has leased (as he has landed a fair distance south of this land).  We're talking about a 2 or 3 day trip up to the Pongos at the fastest under full steam, so the idea that they would float there overnight carried by the river is completely stupid.  Then apparently, after his rival buys the boat back from him, he now has sufficient cash to stage an opera on the boat itself, though I assume he has financially ruined his mistress, since the lease on the land expired.  Why not simply cut to the chase and hire the musicians to turn up wherever he wanted them?  I just found this a completely stupid and exasperating movie, not helped at all by the fact that I hate opera...*

I was supposed to see Hitchcock's Spellbound the next day, also in the front row, but then a seat in the third row opened up at the last minute, and I snagged that.  It was still too close, but a little better.  This is a lesser film, though I did like Dali 's dream sequence.  I did blink for a second and managed to miss the Hitchcock cameo.  Oh well.

I'm glad I did take a chance on them, but neither movie really lived up to the hype.  (I mean The Boy and The Heron didn't either...)  Unfortunately, I think I'll have to break here, since there are still a few things I ought to do before the holiday break is over.

*  Oh, and I was in the very front row due to TIFF's completely inane all-you-can-watch membership policies.  At the box office, they flat out admitted to me that because they don't get any money from showing all these classics, they stuff them up onto the top floor where they have extremely limited seating.  So short-sighted and stupid, and I am not going to renew my membership.

Reading Over the Long Weekend

I'm actually supposed to be heading over to the gym, though I don't feel 100%.  I'll probably cut the routine a bit short, but I think I will feel some accomplishment if I actually do go.  I did go swimming yesterday, and that helped me feel that I had been somewhat productive.

Anyway, I made far more progress on The Heptameron than I really expected when coming back from Baltimore, since I ended up getting caught up in the Crowdstrike-induced global IT meltdown and ultimately took the Greyhound from Atlanta to Detroit and then a Flixbus from Detroit to Toronto.  It ended up being something like an epic 26 hour journey, which I am still recovering from.  I will definitely write more about this at some point.  I actually slept a fair bit on the bus, and I generally didn't feel like putting on the reading light when people around me were asleep.  Then on the last leg from London to Toronto, I ended up in a bit of a discussion with a young woman going to school at Western.  She was taking the bus all the way to Ottawa!  I might not quite have finished the The Heptameron had I just pressed on with the reading, but I would have been close.  As it stands, I have just over 100 pages to go, so I definitely should wrap it up today or tomorrow.  The Heptameron is intentionally a French version of Boccaccio's The Decameron, though they only got to about 70 stories.  I would say there is a much wider streak of cruelty running through these stories and even more effort to keep women in their place.  It started out being interesting that there was a lot more internal discussion about the stories (compared to The Decameron) but there is always this very cynical man (Hircan) going on about the unworthiness of women and monks, and it gets old.  I'm not sorry I read it, but The Decameron is just so much better.

On that same trip before the meltdown, I finished Fante's West of Rome.  I didn't like it, though for very different reasons than why I disliked his Bandini Quartet.  The main novella is about adopting a fairly stupid dog, though it is more a meditation on Fante's largely failed career as a writer in Hollywood and his strained relations with his children.  In particular, he agonizes on the fact that one of his sons seems to have "jungle fever" and almost exclusively dates Black women.  The comments the narrator makes about biracial children are pretty inexcusable, and there was no coming back from that for me.  I also finished up Nathan Whitlock's Lump while in the Baltimore and Atlanta airports.  There are a few parallels with Carol Shields' work, though I was distracted by the narrative voice shifting around so much (including to the perspective of a small dog at one point!).  I generally don't like fiction that takes the point of view of pets, with perhaps a partial exception for Mottyl the cat in Findley's Not Wanted on the Voyage.

I have been making steady progress on Koestler's Darkness at Noon (this is a new translation based on the discovery of the complete German text of the novel, which was lost during WWII).  In fact, this is the book I will be taking to the gym, and I should also wrap up this book in the next two days.

I had an unplanned trip out to Edmonton last week, and I brought Thomas's Man Gone Down along.

I made decent progress on this with roughly 100 pages to go.  I might have managed to get a bit further, but I was pretty exhausted from the trip (particularly working through the night and just getting a paper in to TRB minutes before the deadline!), and I think I actually did manage to get about an hour of sleep on the plane.  Mercifully, the flights from Toronto to Edmonton and back were completely uneventful.  (I will say that I found the Edmonton Airport to be extremely unfriendly for vegetarians, so that wasn't great.)  I thought my son would probably like this (more than I did anyway*) and I loaned it to him for a trip he's making out to cottage country with his friends.  I should get this back Monday evening, and I may push through to get it done on Monday or early in the week.

So I have largely though not entirely cleared the decks.  I have a note from elsewhere in the blog, that I am supposed to tackle Powell's The Golden Spur, Cela's The Hive and The Quick and The Dead by Joy Williams next.  And then the last (for the moment) COVID novel, Rosenblum's These Days Are Numbered: Diary of a High-Rise Lockdown.  That all seems fine, though I can't put my hands on The Hive just at the moment, which is nagging at me and will probably lead to a book hunt after I get back from the gym.

I generally do have a running pile of very short books, with Camus's The Stranger at the very top.  I decided to add Edna O'Brien's August is a Wicked Month (a later novel) and Lantern Slides (stories) to this pile to mark her recent passing.  Her other books, especially the Country Girls Trilogy, will just have to join the queue with everything else...

That actually reminds me that I did say I would add Howard's End to this list after watching The Inheritance over at Canadian Stage.  And I would probably read A Room with a View around the same time.  Incredibly, it's just something I haven't gotten to yet.

Then there have been a number of articles on the fact that this is James Baldwin's centenary year.  I have read little, perhaps no Baldwin aside from a short story or essay here or there.  I am leaning towards reading Go Tell It on the Mountain and then his final novel Just About My Head, which returns to Harlem.

I'll add Going to Meet the Man to my ever-growing list of short story collections to tackle (one of these days...).  As it happens, I have the first two Baldwin collections from LOA (Early Stories and Essays) but I don't have Later Novels.  I had basically found a copy locally, but it was sold out from under me!  I took a quick look at BMV yesterday, and while I didn't expect it would turn up, now I will feel justified in ordering a copy, though I probably will have it shipped to the States and pick it up in the fall.

As an aside, from time to time, BMV gets a huge shipment of books from NYRB, and yesterday was no exception.  I was perhaps a bit bummed out to see Comyns's The Juniper Tree and Cela's The Hive and Michael Heller's Telescope (Selected Poems) as these are all books that I sort of jumped through hoops to get and here they were (and without any shipping costs!).  Though I guess if I can't put my hands on The Hive soon, I know where to get a new copy.  At the same time, I still didn't see Chevengur by Platonov (though there is a copy of this waiting for me in North Carolina) or Sorokin's Blue Lard.  On the other hand, they did have Sorokin's Telluria and Maxim Osipov's Kilometer 101, so I grabbed those.

Some days I really do feel that this is a sickness that has taken over my life (trying to read all literature worth reading), but at other times I figure I might as well let it ride.  It's perhaps just a bit too hard to picture my life without literature (and theatre and the occasional foreign film).  At this point, my procrastination (and not going to the gym or getting groceries) is going to cost me a bit, but perhaps I can get back on track if I leave right now.  Ciao.

* I generally find the unnamed narrator to be completely obsessed with race, yet he then sets himself up for trouble by dating white almost exclusively and then marrying a white woman, whose mother hates him.  I think my single biggest beef with the novel is the way that it covers 9/11 and the aftermath.  While the events are a bit confusing, my understanding is that in the immediate aftermath, the narrator goes for a long jog through lower Manhattan.  Aside from the fact that huge stretches were blocked off and people there for "recreational purposes" would have been generally excluded, there isn't any hint of just how horrible the air quality was for weeks and weeks, and that one was essentially breathing in the ashes of the dead, along with asbestos and who knows what else.  So this was a missed opportunity, and generally it really makes me feel that Michael Thomas is a complete poseur, who was nowhere near Manhattan at that time (when the Towers fell).  This may be unfair, of course, but this section of the novel completely turned me off.  And as I have repeated several times in my comments about Barbara Comyns, I just don't like novels about feckless artistic types, and here is a man who has gotten deep, deep, deep into debt without any reasonable plan to get out, so it's very hard to muster up the necessary empathy for his situation to keep reading.  (For instance, he and his wife insist on private education for the children when this is so clearly out of budget.)  I was somewhat intrigued, however, in the way that references to T.S. Eliot were woven into the novel.