what does the photo above have to do with my rambling post below? just to clarify…nothing! but this is the state of my winter garden which received a bit of rain this week. i drove home yesterday in a fantastic, but brief downpour. the freeways were flooded with water. the raindrops were big & heavy. a great froth of roiling clouds followed me home.
my students this year are delightful and i enjoy the mix of personalities very much. i have "the problem class", but that's from the perspective of people who are not as well acquainted as i with real problems. unless you're being bitten, spat upon, or chased with scissors hitchcockian style you really don't have problems. my class is lively, funny, enthusiastic, talkative, and affectionate. i deem that an excellent combination of traits.
i spent many nights this week shaking with big department-store-santa laughs while reading the slaves of solitude. granted i find humor in odd things. but surely everyone who reads the following would laugh:
it was not for albert brent to know the actual state of affairs. it was not for the piano tuner to know that in this still, grey, winter-gripped dining room, this apparent mortuary of desire and passion (in which the lift rumbled and knives and forks scraped upon plates), waves were flowing forward and backward, and through and through, of hellish revulsion and unquenchable hatred!
or how about this:
mr. thwaites was, of course, a pronounced and leading christmasist, being the instinctive leader of everything irritating and depressing, and the others followed him.
yes it's bleak, but also clever with a lovely story arc that has a very satisfying conclusion. very satisfying. i'm sorry it's over.
now, keen to read more excellent, but forgotten books i've downloaded a sample of THIS
The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne (1955) is an unflinching and deeply sympathetic portrait of a woman destroyed by self and circumstance. First published in 1955, it marked Brian Moore as a major figure in English literature (he would go on to be short-listed three times for the Booker Prize) and established him as an astute chronicler of the human soul. Judith Hearne is an unmarried woman of a certain age who has come down in society. She has few skills and is full of the prejudices and pieties of her genteel Belfast upbringing. But Judith has a secret life. And she is just one heartbreak away from revealing it to the world.
and when i'm finished i'm going to watch maggie smith & bob hoskins in the 1987 movie version:
one more … patricia brent, spinster was free on kindle so i downloaded it. written in 1918, stuck in a book says its good. so i'm giving it a try!
i just reread this post and it looks like i'm leaning towards a theme of depressed women leading lives of quiet desperation. well it is saturday. and i am still in my pajamas in the middle of the afternoon. and i am going down for a nap and a read, but i'll be whistling my way to the bed chamber i can tell you that! and 2 cats with tails waving high in the air will be following me.
and that, as they say, is that. it's saturday and i'm readin'!
okay: OMG! I just an hour ago read about Dame Maggie Smith and her awards and had no awareness of this movie or book. Is it not fabbo when you hear nothing of something and then as soon as you do, you do?
oh, you know what I mean, stop it.
i firmly believe you have life (a good one) well under control.
Will you be reading the ‘new’ novel by Harper Lee when it comes out? From the small information available so far, it sounds like it could fit in with this genre.
I just finished Light on Snow by Anita Shreve which could have been depressing but somehow wasn’t and which I found hard to put down which is unusual for me as I usually only carve out reading time before falling asleep.
We love wearing our pajamas in this house. As a matter of fact, my across the street neighbor knocked on the door last Friday at 10:30am to ask me to get his mail for a few days and seemed quite amused to find me still in my pajamas. He said “don’t you look cozy?” And I lied and said I wasn’t feeling well. I now wish I had ignored his smirky face and just owned my love of the flannel jammie because also I will likely be in my pajamas when he comes to retrieve his mail and it might not be believable that I am still sick.
That was my Friday as I had aclass and a party on Saturday. I am a fully fulfilled woman of a certain age and really couldn’t care less about any labels…I’m the good news – the lucky ones will at a certain age if they are lucky. Male or female doesn’t matter. We are the good news.Write on!
Since I don’t work I spend many a day in my PJs, sitting in my recliner either reading, surfing the web, cuddling my kitty, living in the slow lane which suits me to a TEE. I say you should relax and enjoy the moment whenever possible. I’ve never understood women who say they’re bored. Bored? Read a book, the easy answer to boredom.
Far from depressing in my book. Quite filled with life in all aspects – unconditional love (cats), entertainment (book), physical comfort (bed) – cozy peacefulness. It’s what we all should strive for in each day.
Ha,ha,ha! Made me guffaw with glee. I too was in my pj’s until late afternoon, reading, doing some sketching, and generally enjoying a quiet Saturday. Ah, the luxury of living a life of quiet desperation.
I like your Saturday better than mine. (Had to attend a memorial service for a good friend’s husband). Pjs in the afternoon, a nap with cats, a book or two….sounds lovely. I’m glad someone got to have such a nice day!
Tomorrow….gee….something about a game?
BTW, it seems that the entire population of my small town owns at least one Seahawks jersey per person. Everyone, EVERYONE, all week, has been wearing green and blue. Including me. And I’ll be in my #60 Max Unger jersey tomorrow. Watching that game thingie on TV.
XO
A Saturday afternoon read and nap sounds divine!
I have been under the weather today and started to read, The Paris Wife, about Hemingway’s first wife. Lost in a novel is a lovely way to spend a sunny, 10 degree day, esp with a large labrador draped across your legs like a fur stole (just 70 lbs heavier than one).