The writing beckons now. Stronger than ever. When self is writing, she feels almost invincible.
Today, Trieste is overcast.
Self is making great headway with her book (Still the one she was reading when she arrived in Venice, almost two weeks ago: Per Petterson’s Out Stealing Horses). This book is a wonder, a narrative of truly gripping power. At dinner in the Antico Convento last night, over pork with porcini, she read the scene with the poor old man who shows up at the farm, dressed only in a thin suit and “summer shoes,” and about the German soldiers who are after him (The book is told in flashback, and the events of World War II blend almost seamlessly into the present). Self must have read 50 pages in the restaurant.
Afterwards, she spent the rest of the evening watching “Mississippi Burning” in Italian.
Self has decided that she will list all the books on the shelf above her bed in this little apartamento. She may not finish listing all today, but here goes:
- La Vie de Cézanne, by Henri Perruchot
- Das Monstrum, by Stephen King
- La Ragazza in Blu, by Susan Vreeland
- L’Ombra del Vento, by Carlos Ruiz Zafon
- Sol Levante, by Michael Crichton
- Die folgenschwere Ermordung Ihrer Majestat Konigin Elisabeth I, by Keith Roberts
- Maggie: Una Ragazza Di Strada, by Stephen Crane
- Come Fratello E Sorella, by Sandra Petrignani
- Uscita per L’Inferno, by Stephen King (writing as Richard Bachman)
- Lady Chatterley’s Lover, by D. H. Lawrence
And now, to write.
Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.