Geography

A visit from Quinn! Over dinner, she confessed to Dr. Theresa and me that she is not much on geography. In fact, she related a tale from her childhood, pinpointing the moment when she might have learned a thing or two about the land we call home, but chose a darker path... the path of geographical ignorance. So it was with some excitement that she snapped the photo above, commenting "Mississippi is the exact same shape as Bart Simpson!" I found it a delightful observation. Have others made a similar observation? Probably. But I'm not going to google it because I just don't care. Then Quinn had a biscuit in a place that keeps a Bible for you to read in the bathroom.

Fun

Checked in with McNeil, who says he is reading the Bible, which he described as "fun." Interesting (?) coincidence: when I recorded a podcast recently (it hasn't been released yet), ostensibly to promote the pilot that Pen and I made, I forgot to talk about the pilot at all, but I did manage to yammer incessantly about how much I enjoy the Bible, so everyone has that to look forward to.

The Cry of the Pork Vendor

Okay, Gadda keeps hitting me with sandwiches. It hurts. "A sandwich with a slice of pork. Big enough to last two days." Couple of pages later there's "a kind of hamburger swollen with papers more than a generous salami sandwich"... okay, that one... there's a lot to "unpack" as a scholar might say, or scholars used to say, or did they ever say that? The latter is not a real sandwich. It's a wallet as metaphorical sandwich. It is, per the translator William Weaver, a "rotten wallet." And look, I don't want to eat a wallet. I don't even want to eat a hamburger swollen with papers, or anything rotten at all. Now, I wouldn't turn up my nose at a generous salami sandwich, although I am no longer allowed to have generous salami sandwiches under the constant hectoring threats of a well-meaning physician. But Gadda includes the cry of the pork vendor, "Get you [sic] roast pork here! Nice roast pork... golden brown." Golden brown! Dear Lord, how much of this can I take?

Rich in Ideas

Okay, in THAT AWFUL MESS ON THE VIA MERULANA, Gadda also mentions a "decoy owl on a stick," by which he means, I think, the same object to which both Charles Portis and Sam Shepard referred as a "dummy owl" ("click" here and here for details) and Larry Brown called an "owl decoy" (subtle difference). I don't know exactly what Stephen King called it because I didn't directly quote him regarding that aspect when the occasion arose. Most of all, I feel sure you will want to know that while King, Portis, Shepard, and Brown are talking about literal, physical decoy owls, Gadda's decoy owl is figurative, a way of describing the actions of a certain kind of person. You must take all of these factors into consideration when contemplating owls and plastic owls! When you think about it, Gadda has used owls three different ways. That's what we like to call real old-fashioned owl versatility. But the main thing I am noticing is the sandwiches. As you may recall, Dr. Theresa and I get distracted lately - haunted, really - by the sandwiches presented to us in arts and entertainment. I am going to describe some of Gadda's sandwiches from memory now, because the book is downstairs and I'm extremely lazy. One sandwich has three slabs of prime rib on it as big as terra cotta roof tiles, on a roll of bread "like a carpet slipper" might be a quotation. Well, it's close, if not. Another sandwich has alternating slices of mortadella and roast beef. As I lay in bed reading, I offered the sandwich descriptions aloud to Dr. Theresa. I thought about the sandwiches a lot! I kept picturing a roast beef sandwich I could have sworn we used to get at Alon's Bakery in Atlanta, but I looked it up... that's just how sad I am! And I am not sure it's the same sandwich. Well! I had a doctor's appointment today, so I brought along QUINCAS BORBA, which I have taken out of regular rotation - just temporarily! - because of pressing Million Dollar Book Club business. Let me first say that I was correct! De Assis has attempted no further reflections from a dog's point of view. But! As I sat there in the waiting room, it so happened that the author started a couple of roses talking to each other. Talking roses! But he did it in a way that lets us know he's just pulling our legs... whereas William Maxwell's dog stuff groaned (howled?) with a pathos that would have made Charlie Chaplin himself die of embarrassment. Besides, de Assis once again provides a wonderful justification: "a stretch of wall, a bench, a carpet, an umbrella, are all rich in ideas and feelings, when, that is, we are, too, and this exchange of ideas between men and things is one of the most interesting phenomena on earth."

Knowing Topazes

You know I have to tell you every time I read a book with an owl in it. But did you know I DON'T have to tell you if a book I read has more than one owl in it? Look it up! But sometimes I tell you anyway, because I have really, really great reasons. Like, for example, yes, THAT AWFUL MESS ON THE VIA MERULANA has a "handsome priest" who looks like an owl, but - and I found this out the other night; I'm ashamed of not mentioning it sooner - it also has a real owl in it, well, a real stuffed owl. The reader will of course be reminded of the embalmed owl in ULYSSES. This owl here we're talking about now, though, the moths have really gotten to this here owl, I'm afraid, but its eyes are intact. In fact, they're "knowing topazes, motionless in the night, in time, surviving the ruins of time." You know how it is! I don't know about you, but the knowing topazes in my stuffed owl's head are always going around surviving the ruins of time every time I turn around. You can't make this stuff up! And surely you recall the "cheap glass eye" of a hypothetical stuffed owl, the color of which (eye color, that is) bestows the title upon a Travis McGee novel. At this point I would like to assure you that neither Elon Musk nor his impish teen pal "Big Balls" can put a stop to the important work of the "blog."

Marshmallow Cigar

We have a lot of exciting things to talk about. Not really. Let's see. Something was on my mind. Yes, I was reading QUINCAS BORBA yesterday and the author stepped out from behind the curtain of narrative, so to speak, to recommend that the reader "Pick up TOM JONES, Book IV, Chapter I." All right. So, later, I got in bed and picked up a different book, one called THAT AWFUL MESS ON THE VIA MERULANA, and no sooner had I opened it to the passage where I left off the night before than the author stepped out from behind the curtain of narrative, so to speak, to recommend that the reader "Reread the sad and atrocious tale in WAR AND PEACE, book three, part three, chapter twenty-five." Is any of this interesting? I don't think so. I do think it's funny that the author (Carlo Emilio Gadda, translated by William Weaver) assumes I have already read WAR AND PEACE at least once. And before we go on, I would like to make clear that de Assis and Gadda italicize the titles of the other novels they mention. I only use caps here because I've never learned how to italicize on the "blog," or to make paragraph breaks, either, for that matter, and I never will. Meanwhile, back in QUINCAS BORBA, the author pauses the narrative again to relate an anecdote about the distraught owner of a burning house, and a passing drunkard who asks permission to light his cigar with the flames. Now! This struck me for a couple of reasons. But first I will quote de Assis's bleak commentary: "you don't have to be drunk to light a cigar on another person's misery." Anyhow! I did think that if I had read it in time, I would have found a place for it in my book about cigarette lighters, even though, just for starters, I spent God knows how many sentences tediously and pedantically (and probably inaccurately) ennumerating for the uncaring reader the important differences between cigarettes and cigars. The other thing I thought about was the cartoon I've mentioned here before, in which beatniks use a burning house to roast their marshmallows. Beatniks! When will they ever learn? But I would have mentioned none of this here had not a "handsome priest" appeared in the pages of THAT AWFUL MESS "with a pair of owl's eyes very close to his nose: which, metaphorically, between such eyes, could be compared only to a beak." Now, does that sound "handsome," I ask you? Before you answer, don't forget the book I found in the park, the authors of which seemed to consider owls very handsome indeed. All the strands of the "blog" are coming together. Soon, we achieve the singularity. (I don't know what that is.)

New Favorite Fish

Everybody has been wondering what my new favorite fish is, and it's halibut.