Spending too much time with Gustave Doré’s drawings almost makes me wistful for my childhood terror of demons. Back then, because of my mom’s obsession with possession and exorcism, and the impromptu deliverance sessions that would spring up in our living room, the spirit world seemed immediate and ever-threatening, a place the Devil could emerge from with his scythe . . .
Friends have urged me to read Mark Twain’s nonfiction for years, but it was only after happening upon his thoughts about the human race that I decided to follow their advice. Much of what he wrote is available online. And while it’s a rare writer who can compel me to focus on a computer screen for more than a few . . .
Ed. Note: this distillation is the handiwork of Emma Garman, one of MaudNewton.com’s regular Friday bloggers. Hands up who’s managed to plough through Ben Marcus’s Harper’s essay? I did, but only with a liberal summoning of will power and discipline. It’s smart and everything, I just couldn’t escape the feeling he could’ve made his points in considerably fewer words. . . .
After yesterday’s Hardy post, a few readers sent along their own favorite poems. I’ll post a few in the coming days. I’ve been suffering from insomnia lately, partly because I’m stressed about my novel, partly because I’m insane, so when my friend Bill called my attention to Theodore Roethke’s famous villanelle “The Waking,” which begins “I wake to sleep, . . .
I got home at 3 a.m. on Saturday morning, after standing outside Books of Wonder for several hours with A. and Mr. Maud. We were #257 in the line to buy a copy of the new Harry Potter book and have it signed by the illustrator. A. was thrilled — although she later had nightmares about the leggy cupcake figures . . .