I should not be allowed to blog whilst in such a maudlin mood. And also, my goodness, 2010 is flying by already. I'm going to try and do a minimum of one entry a week, depending what I get up to.
Anyway, here is some more cheerful stuff, hooray!
I was loaned (lent? leaned?) a copy of By Grand Central Station I Sat Down and Wept. I haven't been crashed into the earth by a book in such a long time. It's one of the most stunning things I've ever read and I'm beyond greatful to the person who lent it to me. (You're a hero, Tom!) That said, I'd recommend it to anybody with any kind of heart or mind. The complete raw rendition of a love affair, a love affair that never truly happened, floods effortlessly between the metaphysical agony of the woman's feelings and the physical reality she is trapped in, first watching the woman who is actually married to her lover, remembering the times when she and her lover were together, enduring the trials of going home and the court case for her adultery, and finally living, alone, shamed and pregnant, in a kind of exile from her love. If you've read and enjoyed (you better had) The Scarlet Letter then this is going to be for you.
The unedurable ecstacy of being in love, the despair and the joy, the ridiculous struggle between the reality of living and the desire to sink wholly into a void of emotion: it's all a bit wow. I won't try to equal the language here, because I've never read such a powerful encompassing of the way the heart can take over the entire world. Thoughts and impulses and feelings I didn't think could be expressed with the vulgarity of words on a page and she bloody did it. I wouldn't say I've loved that way, but I recognise the beginnings of it in my own experience, and it has value far beyond what personal knowledge you may have locked in your head. I implore you, read this book.
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