Loose Ends

We should begin with forgetting my announcements of last evening, nothing has been further from all relative truths. I did not heft the Fisk but went rather with a novel by Angus Wilson which caught my eye a month ago and I picked up last week at Half Price after selecting Voss by Patrick White for my friend Pint who was in town this past weekend. More on Wilson later, but i also bought Murakami's Wind-Up Bird Chroinicle which is rather central and perhaps crucial in quirky circumstances which culminated in my marriage. Odd, but so wonderful.

Anglo-Saxon Attitudes by Angus Wilson has proved wonderful. Akin to Kinglsey perhaps, but enjoyable and rife with acerbic contemplation. I certainly need to spend more time this week on the Kingsley bio, but when? My interest in John Cowper Powys continues. My interest was sparked by John Grey's noting it remarkable in the Guardian and some spitwad research yielded a wonderful article by Margaret Drabble on the same newspaper.

There wasn't much of literary bent to my discussions this past weekend, saddled with Riger and discussing the shitbogs of Amis domesticity was the exception. Pint hammered away on some tired Cold War ethics bullshit and left me pondering about whether an author like Niall Ferguson could hold both of our interests. I can't affirm with any confidence. I hope Terry likes the novel. I watched Sympathy For Mr. Vengeance yesterday and I did think of Murakami, perhaps given his essay in the NYTBR it was inevitable.