January has passed by in a heat haze of demand and grind, so much so that I’ve barely had any time to write either fiction or reviews. If time were a book the January chapter would have to be speed read because reality is just so demanding. As Damon Albarn once noted - modern life is rubbish.
Luckily enough moments to read still present themselves on the train and at work-time lunch. Recently I’ve read No Certainty Attached - a fine Steve Kilbey biography; Shirley Hazzard’s highly literate The Transit of Venus and I’m one hundred pages from finishing Umberto Eco’s The Name of the Rose, which is like being caught in a medieval mudslide. My thoughts about these books will emerge eventually.
Meanwhile I’m having nearly a week off work to go south of Perth to rest and relax by the beach. I’m taking with me Haruki Murakami’s last book - 1Q84. I’m finally in the mood to read his book after having bought the hardback edition over a year ago. It’s going to be great to reconnect with Murakami. About five years ago I had become quite jaded with the books I was reading. Fortunately I stumbled across his novel Dance Dance Dance at my library and it totally reinvigorated my reading experience.
So Murakami, I’ll be immersed in your weird world again and at night I’ll dream of being trapped in a library labyrinth whilst library patrons pursue me asking unanswerable reference questions, their mouths leaking words that pool on the floor until I’m swimming in them. Well, hopefully I will not have that dream again; instead I’d like to dream about books and wine…