Friday, October 13, 2006


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.


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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