I like books. A lot. Probably more than I like a good percent of the population. So, in this page I want to keep thoughts about what I am reading now, and what I read constantly. Some books you never put down. There will be quotes and comments, and generally the written version of making out with literature.
OK, I won’t bore you with everything I’ve been reading, but right now, it’s Feather Crowns by Bobbie Anne mason. It’s a really good book about septuplets born in rural Kentucky.
Now, June 27, 2006, I am nearly finished with TOC (see below) and will move on to Delta of Venus by Anais Nin. Got to love a book written for a dollar a page as a cheap thrill for a wealthy patron.
OK, right now, as of June 23, 2006, I am reading Tropic of Cancer by Henry miller. LOVE it. I think I said something in a post about it, so right to the quotes. ** all TOC quotes originate in the Signet Classics 1995 edition.
A year ago, six months ago, I thought that I was an artist. I no longer think about it, I am. (23)
…with Claude there was always a certain delicacy, even when she got under the sheets with you. And her delicacy offended me. Who wants a delicate whore (61)
It is not difficult to be alone if you are poor and a failure. An artist is always alone – if he is an artist. No, what the artist needs is lonliness. (77)
Over there, you think of nothing but becoming president of the United States some day. (147)
Do anything, but let it produce joy. Do anything, but let it yield ecstacy. So much corwds into my head when I say this to myself: images, gay ones, terrible ones, maddening ones, the wolf and the goat, the spider, the crab, syphilis with her wings outstreatched and the door of the womb always on the latch, always open, ready like the tomb. Lust, crime, holiness: the lives of my adored ones, the failures of my adored ones, the words they left behind them, the words they left unfinished; the good they dragged after them and the evil, the sorrow, the discord, the rancor, the strife they created. But above all, the ecstasy (232)
Othe books I love:
Salman Rushdie’s midnight’s children:
I have been a swallower of lives; and to know me, just the one of me, you’ll have to swallow the lot as well. (4)
Adrienne Rich’s poetry (from Integrity):
A wild patience has taken me this far
as if I had to bring to shore a boat with a spasmodic outboard motor old sweaters, nets, spray-tooled books tossed in the prow some kind of sun burning my shoulder blades.