Today I took over another professor's classes--a way to make a little extra money. So, was I delighted when a custodian burst into the classroom this afternoon to announce that the college will be closed tomorrow. Wow! Tuesday is the most challenging day of the week, and I've got it off.
Oh, no. The high winds from Hurricane Sandy have made the power blitz off for a moment. I'll have to keep this short because I know we'll lose power in these high winds.
First, superlatives are in order for Paul Auster's Winter Journal, which is a memoir, of sorts. Not a linear narrative, but thoughts and memories and reflections during Auster's 65th year. I'm loving it--reading passages over and over again. How is it that with some special writers one feels such a kinship? It happens to me with Auster, over and over and over again.
He confesses to an obsessive habit with cigars and copious wine consumption. His wife worries that he drinks and smokes too much, wishing that he would live forever, he says. He's had no negative effects from these habits, other than middle-of-the-night coughing fits. So, his wife worries? I worry. I didn't know about this. Naturally I hope my favorite author has a dozen more books in him. I'll have to keep my fingers crossed and hope his genetic heritage is like the comedian George Burns, who smoked cigars for seven decades and lived to be over 100.
Margaret Millar’s The Listening Walls (1959; 2016)
11 hours ago