I'm a literary failure

Something got me looking for an obscure literary character on google today, and I stumbled onto learned articles explaining the intricacies of literature to us poor unwashed. The character I was looking for was from The Last of the Mohicans, and I was treated to a fascinating discussion of the male images and the surprise that Cooper wasn't writing with a lot of homophobia. You got to be shitting me -- they actually pay people to write this shit? Or am I indeed a swine before whom pearls have no interest. Then at B&N today, I ran across a book called How to Talk About Books You've Never Read. WTF? How to preen and pose? How to bullshit? I confess that while I'm widely read, there are magnificent gaps in my canon. If I haven't read a book and someone wants to discuss it, I'll certainly listen, but I have nothing to add to the conversation. Some of my best reads have come from those sorts of conversations. A fellow customer in a bookstore at least 20 years ago directed me to the historical novels (exquisitely researched) of Allen Eckert. Those cover the 18th century development of the shifting frontier.

My partner remarked this week that she thinks it's "nuts" to carry around multiple books to read. (I keep the ones I'm working most on in a canvas tote with my briefcase.) That's a touch offensive - it feels like a freedom thing to me. I take pleasure in books. I have friends there who are as real to me as many people in the physical world, and most of whom make a hell of a lot more sense. One of my favorites is Handling Sin, by Michael Malone. I'm sure I've mentioned that book before. Here's the power of a book: I gave a copy to my former partner's daughter, who loved it. She had a friend whose father was dying of cancer. She gave him the book, and it was the last thing he read, and she told me that he told her that he got lots of hours of pleasure and lightness and escape from the pain from it. That's power. I cannot imagine a life without books. Amazon has a new product, the "Kindle," which is an ebook reader that may be practical. I can picture the convenince of cyberbooks -- no more heavy canvas tote. But I just hesitate to pass up the full experience, including the tactile experience, of a printed book.

Today marked the 30th time I have gathered with staff to recognize another Christmas. As I am wont to do, I talked a bit, about our difficult year, about the joys we've had, and the crappy times -- Tammy coming to work for us and being soooooo hesitant to trust us to support her in taking care of her family's need; the whole cancer experience with Kathy; Amy's family health issues. But we have hung together, and we have persevered. Perhaps that's all that's expected of us, I'm not sure.

Last night was the county bar Christmas reception, and it was held at No. 3. It was surprisingly nice, and I enjoyed it a bit. Lots of people who are important to me and who I care about were there, and we talked in peace. And this morning was the last "judicial day" before Christmas, which means that I made my Christmas rounds, and made a few dozen phone calls to wish my friends a good new year. Something I blogged a few days ago, about how many murdered people I have known, has had me thinking. Clank asked probing questions of the why of all that. My brother Dave and I have reflected on this, and postulate that it's a combination of the sordid parts of life we inhabit, and the fact that we live in a town of 20,000, and a county of 60,000 people. So, we just know an awful lot of people. There are literally 1,000+ people I know who I will greet with a genuine smile, a handshake, a hug or a touch on the back, and genuinely enjoy seeing them. My experience of other types of places is virtually nil. What is it like in more populous areas?

I honestly don't know how to take this holiday off. I feel like I can slow down for 2 or 3 hours, but after that I get antsy and have to be doing something. That's hardly a healthy attitude, I know, and I feel stuck and quite hopeless to have genuine down time. Tomorrow is 1/2 day of work (issues surrounding a house mortgage foreclosure), Sunday is a full day of activity, and I have been "assigned" a fairly aggressive schedule by LaElu for Monday, mostly family and church stuff. I have in my mind a perfectly restful setting, the farm figures prominently in that, but I don't know how I would react to it in real life.

Good news: Down 155. Got the pre-sentence report on the third of my triad of woman federal drug defendants, and I have a plan to get her a good result. I will, however, be worried a ton about it until March, when the sentencing is set.

All in all, it's a dull and lonely life this week.

Mzpah. Pippa passes.

R