Saturday, December 6, 2014

The Strange Library by Haruki Murakami


A lonely boy, a mysterious girl, and a tormented sheep man plot their escape from a nightmarish library. (back cover)
 
Introducing the latest from Haruki Murakami! I can always count on this author to nudge my reading into different directions. He has time and again pulled me into a surreal and fascinating world with his stories both long, 1Q84, and now his just published short novel, The Strange Library. His writing is well paced and clear making the reader's immersion into the worlds of his characters quite effortless. It's delightful, really. He combines fantastical elements in amongst all sorts of "normality" so that I get swept up into the goings-on before I realize things are getting weird. I enjoyed The Strange Library not only for the imagination but also the insights typical of Murakami about people, relationships, and life in general. As so often happens while reading his books, I find myself copying words, lines and sometimes whole paragraphs because they express a truth or sentiment so perfectly.
 
I sat down on my bed and buried my head in my hands. Why did something like this have to happen to me? All I did was go to the library to borrow some books. (Chap. 10, The Strange Library)
 
The old man came to check on me that evening. He was delighted to find me lost in my book. Seeing how happy he was made me feel a little happier. No matter what the situation may be, I still take pleasure in witnessing the joy of others. (Ch. 18, The Strange Library)
 
So you'd best forget those shoes. Shoes you can replace, but you can't replace your brains or your life. (Chap 21, The Strange Library)

The Library in Winter



Image by Jon McNaught

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Winter


It still says Autumn on the calendar but the icy chill outside my window says . . .

Winter

To shiver, frozen, amid icy snow
In the bitter blast of a horrible wind;
To run constantly stamping one's feet;
And to feel one's teeth chatter on account of the excessive cold;
To spend restful, happy days at the fireside
While the rain outside drenches a good one hundred
To walk on the ice,
And with slow steps to move about cautiously 
For fear of falling;
To go fast, to slip and fall down;
To go on the ice again and run fast
Until the ice cracks and opens up;
To hear coming out of the iron gates
Sirocco, Boreas and all the winds at war:
That's winter! But of a kind to gladden one's heart.

~Antonio Vivaldi
via Winter by Adam Gopnik, pg 6


Also, a video. Curl up under a blanket and brew something hot for sipping.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pgs_zB6Et2Q&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Sunday, November 16, 2014

Reading a book was a meditative act, but it didn't involve a clearing of the mind. Readers disengaged their attention from the outward flow of passing stimuli in order to engage it more deeply with an inward flow of words, ideas, and emotions. That was - and is - the essence of the unique mental process of deep reading.
~Nicholas Carr, The Shallows

A lovely reading nook for your Sunday


http://feedly.com/k/1ERlT84



Wednesday, November 12, 2014

Tuesday, November 11, 2014

What is time? A secret - insubstantial and omnipotent. A prerequisite of the eternal world, a motion intermingled and fused with bodies existing and moving in space. But would there be time, if there were no motion? No motion, if there were no time? What a question! Is time a function of space? Or vice versa? Or are the two identical? An even bigger question! Time is active, by nature it is much like a verb, it both 'ripens' and 'brings forth.' And what does it bring forth? Change! Now is not then, here is not there - for in both cases motion lies in between.

~Thomas Mann, The Magic Mountain

Tuesday, October 21, 2014


Taking tea in the company of an old book. 
As if these colors alone are not soothing enough.
Image: Vokki Laine

Sunday, October 19, 2014

One of the great privileges of having grown up in a middle-class literary English household, but having gone to school in the front lines in Southeast London, was that I became half-street-urchin and half-good-boy at home. I knew that dichotomy was possible.

~Daniel Day-Lewis

Wednesday, October 1, 2014

October began as new months are wont to do - their beginnings are perfectly modest and hushed, with no outward signs, no birthmarks. Indeed they steal in silently and quite unnoticed, unless you are paying very strict attention. Real time knows no turning points, there are no thunderstorms or trumpet fanfares at the start of a new month or year, and even when a new century commences only we human beings fire cannon and ring bells.
Thomas Mann, The Magic Mountain