The Wonder of a Good Novel
Most people no longer read much that isn’t on a screen. But while I watch a variety of programs, mostly on cable or Netflix or Prime, I still find that reading an excellent novel creates a more intense and immersive response, engaging my brain more fully. I was pondering this difference because I just finished Natalie Hayne’s novel A THOUSAND SHIPS. As well as I know that Iliad and the Odyssey, her feminist take on those stories was absolutely absorbing. I know there is a difference. Woody grew up on TV and I didn’t. He gets emotionally involved with programs or movies I may enjoy but don’t find myself grabbed as emotionally. It’s rare when I do. I’m starting Ali Smithy’s SUMMER, having read the previous books in the series. She is one of the writers who successfully combine creating vivid characters with the social and political forces pressing in on them.
What we have been watching if the PBS series on Mohammed Ali, which so far has been excellent. I tape them and so far we’ve watched the first two. It brings back a lot from that time when I was an organizer and activist.
My ankle is bothering me today after I was convinced it might be finally at least partially healing. Walking so much in Maine seems to have annoyed it. I’m trying to stay active in spite of it. Dale is gone this coming week, so the work will pile up but that’s fine. I’ll get mor time for the gardens and the house. We’ve put so much attention into the gardens this summer and dealing with unusually high productivity [we’ve never before had zucchini in late September and the beans are belching out more than we can use and the pumpkins and winter squashes are far more abundant in better shape than we’ve seen in years] by freezing, canning, dehydrating, that the house is pretty much a dirty mess and cluttered. I started work on my office yesterday. I couldn’t get at it until the new file cabinet came as the old drawers were blocking me from part of the room. Dale and I went through all contents of the two drawers, discarding what was no longer relevant. Now the new two drawer cabinet is next to the regular four d rawer cabinet – Woody says they look like parent and child.
Our two male cats, Schwartzie and Mingus, were due to see our new vet on Wednesday. We had carefully avoided using the word ‘vet’ or even spelling it, but nonetheless Schwartzie was nowhere to be found Wednesday morning. Finally at the last possible moment, Woody found him hiding in the wall of the storage room where Willow has made a condo for herself. He had to fetch a tall ladder to yank him out. How do they always know? A mystery.
One of my former workshop poets is coming to visit next week. A lot of them stay in touch either or both with others in their workshop or with me. We set up a private FB group for every workshop and the one was first set up still has poets communicating and sharing work and news with each other. It can be a bonding experience, both with each other and with me. Some stay in touch with Woody.
Last night we went to supper at a friend’s house with some friends of hers. Schwartzie demanded being wooed after going to the vet. He sulked. He is our only cat who has mastered sulking. He’s very good at it. He has been working hard to train us to give him catnip when he wants, pet him when he chooses, open the door to the sun porch.