Self blasted through the post-Alexander Grin stories in The Big Book of Classic Fantasy and skipped the final story, by J. R. R. Tolkien.
Now she’s reading a memoir about growing up Yemeni in Tel Aviv (a city self visited years ago), The Art of Leaving. Someone whose reading taste is impeccable recommended this book to self.
- On our west, down the eternally jammed Jabotinsky Road, is Tel Aviv, the big city with its narrow streets and white sand beaches and the promise of the world beyond its shores. Airplanes circle above us like hungry seagulls before landing, and sometimes warplanes zoom by on their way north of the border. The war is far away, but we can see it written on the grown-ups’ faces: the tension in their cheeks, the groove between the eyebrows. We can hear it in the music played on the radio, beautiful songs in minor keys about death and the land that fill us with sweet sadness.
Stay cool, dear blog readers. Stay cool.