Books for Trips
J.L. Borges used to heft a volume of Dante's Inferno in his coat pocket
as he rode the trams of Buenos Aires, perhaps to accelerate the travel time
between his home, and the various labyrinths he lived his days in.
This afternoon, when deciding what books to pick in order to fill the slivers of time that I may find to read in Toronto, where I will be living and working in for the next few weeks, I decided to follow Borges's example, and packed John Ciardi's English version of "The Inferno", to re-read again. Apart from the timeless appeal of Dante's epic, the palm size nature of the volume made its virtues doubly appealing.
Just before takeoff, on Continental 571 to Toronto.
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O! The Joy Of A Man Finding!
I had heard of the name "Tanner Lectures" when I saw it in Salman Rushdie's latest book of non-fiction "Step Across This Line", with the title essay being the Tanner Lectures he gave at Yale University. Now, it did not occur to me to look up Tanner Lectures until today. But finally I did, and what a treasure trove I found on discovering the entire Lectures Archive. Go pig out; if you haven't read Rushdie's book, you can begin with his Tanner lectures (pdf file).
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Another Reason
as to why I love Russia (other than the fact that I haven't met an un-stylishly turned out Russian woman yet - yes, Dr. Freud, it's all about sex!) and Russian writers, this extract from John Crowfoot's introduction to "Moscow Memoirs" by Emma Gerstein, published by Harvill Press:
A scene from that later period provides a fitting conclusion. In early 1974, not long before Gerstein began to write her memoirs, a second printing of the long-awaited Leningrad edition of (Osip) Mandelstam's poetry suddenly came on sale. Moscow writer Alexander Gladkov made the following entry in his diary:"15 January. This morning they sold (Osip) Mandelstam at the Bookstall. After the previous disappointments a list was drawn up of over 200 people. Lev put me down as # 65. At 9.30 am and even earlier there was a crowd waiting outside... The temperature was 19 below zero. We went off, once in a while, to warm up in some neighboring financial institution. Sometimes, as always happens in queues, amazing rumors began (they wouldn't bring any, they'd only have 50 copies, only people who brought their Writers' Union card would get one). At about 11 the books arrived. The shop's director announced that 200 copies would be put on sale. People lined up."
The diarist, a member of the union queuing up outside the Writers' Bookstall in the center of Moscow, was lucky. He'd left his card at home but was able to buy a copy for one ruble 45 kopecks ("They say it's already selling on the black market for 50-80 rubles"). Pleased with his good fortune, he forgot to mention an odd coincidence: January 15 1974 would have been Osip Mandelstam's 83rd birthday."
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