Friday, October 13, 2006

Thursday

Yesterday was a celebration, to echo the sentiments of the Laureate. My wife called to tell me the wonderful news, joyous both because of Orhan's specific situations as well as his craft as a novelist. I was nearly aloft afterwards while fielding the local festival. This was coupled with a thorough examination of Slate's fiction week and the serial debate of novelness between a pair of blokes I respect, but only from a firm distance. This all congealed into thoughts on culture and the Ste, how both from a post-Summarian perspective have always been colored askew; that's the point innit? One can think of Trollope and his desire to capture the How in the ways we live. I keep thinking of Amis and and his meanderings, punctuated with the profile of Tony Curtis in The Sweet Smell of Success.

2 Comments:

Blogger edward parish said...

In honor of Orhan's Noble Prize for Lit, shall we read something of his collectively? I have spent the last two days telling friends who read even just a little of the grand novel titled Snow by Pamuk.

11:00 PM  
Anonymous Roman Polanski said...

I was thinking of exactly that, at least on a private basis. Timewise I am sure I can manage it before the trip (17 days as of today) but I bought both The Black Book and his Istanbul this year and I will scout about at Half Price (where I bought both of them) as well as at today's Louisville Public library sale to see if I can find a mate so that we can read in tandem. cheers

9:30 AM  

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