finish reading all the books I've bought

by barbara henning

this book (loosely termed) features quick, one-paragraph snap shots of human experience. i’m not such i “get” them all. there’s some interesting moments—-but it’s basically vignettes that are weakly linked together. it is poetic and has a blurry, but still voyeuristic, quality.

i don’t regret reading it, it was the right size and weight for the subway and i, as always, found some quotes that felt good to me.

quotes:

“she dyed her hair red today, same coor as his mother’s, and as always she’s thinking of laundry.”

“no one can talk to her. she is his. for a while. and, of course, for always.”

“she sits beside him kinky from earlobe to toenail and stares into the grey television screen at their distorted images: his arms and he legs, crossed and clean-shaven…one asnkle seems a bit too thin to her. she shifts, moves forward, leans back on him. there. that’s perfect.”

“she’s an outside, and intruding melody.”

“and mouths are insignificant.”

“the girl walks behind him in black sunglasses. her heels click as she follows his leather jacket to the counter.”

“i’m standing inside you door with these red and yellow carnations. so what is my shirt is wrinkled. don’t look at me. i did not sleep with that girl. i’m standing here with red and yelllow asking you to believe me. what more do you want? i’ll be silent. all right. we’ll play. we both know i did sleep with her and her brown hair and her toothpaste smile. es, but when i woke i was slipper and i didn’t know where i was and i remember my toothbrush in your bathroom and my guitar on your sofa and your familiar skin. so put these flowers in a vase and let’s get on with things.”

“and she’s amazed at the design the wrinkles form around lorraine’s eyes, like snowflakes.”

“you gotta loosen up girl, buy yourself a pair of designer jeans and some high, high heels and then you can do some struttin’ too.”

“her chest hurts. he knows this. it isn’t her heart, though. it’s the muscles around her bones. they ache for pressure.”

“she wants him to say he loves her, to talk about the rain on window, but his mouth is too dry, and besides, he’s reading.”

just finished mrs. sartoris by elke schimitter, translated by carol brown janeway.

the book has a very numb, distant tone throughout. it details heartbreak, infidelity, psychological scarring, and how it’s passed down the family line. i think it was pretty well written and a pretty good read. if nothing else, it was honest. it is amazing how much distance the narrator could keep from the story.

“i’m often deep in thought. not that anything comes of it.”

“and it wasn’t neat alcohol, it was a very good red wine. good for the blood vessels, at least.”

“but ahe always looked like she’d won the lottery and =was just waitting for people to share it with.”

“he did not find himself the slightest bit funny.”

“i liked the way he held his cigarette. he didn’t draw it in hungerly, nor did he neglect it; he seemed rather to concentrate on it while talkin to the woman opposite.”

“but i think nobody believed me capable of what was actually going on, because i had never complained once in all these years, never flirted and never sighed.”

“the clock in here was never accurate, but irmi felt that wasn’t the point, a kitchen clock was only there to make you feel at home, and she was probably right.”

formal, broken, tense, dark. interesting. the point-of-view maintains a cool, unemotional feel which draws emotion from the reader. also has a very cinematic quality.

quotes:

“he did it again, he made himself brutal.”

“the stairs leading up to the chateau were wide and shallow and worn like soap.”

“she bent down and twinkled her fingers in a greeting.”

“it smells like old people.”

“there was a loop in time; she was already dead.”

“she bent down and allowed the children to touch her third eye.”

“the boy was skipping stones across the water while the girl dug a hole in the sand, using the plastic hand of her doll as a spade.”

”’it’s too cold,’ she said, ‘the winter is still in the water.’”

“in their wake he tv came alive.”

“the woman watched as the girl began to paint her lips with jam.”

“before they left the children couldn’t resist thumping the piano keys, thwang bang, a sonata for four elbows.”

“they held one another’s gaze and held and held.”

“at that moment she became very young and very old.”

“the rain picked up, pelted the lawn. her brother touched her shoulder to indicate he had heard her.”

bunny modern by david bowman

quirky, fucked up, quick read. imagine a futuristic world where people wear literature, absence of electricity, and backwards swimming sperm. there’s less babies as a result of the backstroking lil’ swimmers, childbirth is rare. nannies are fierce and gun-toting. these nannies hate, hate babies but take a drug which makes them, when an adrenaline rush hits (in the case of baby-napping), have aggressive, maternal instincts towards the children in their care.

this is written in hard-boiled mystery novels (see chandler, hammet).

quotes:

“i remembered how fathers wandered the streets strapped to their walkmans; how moms knelt at the household tv, channel hopping through network product.”

“but there’s nothing juvenile about this tomato now.”

“she is a severe, askew beauty.”

”...so the reaper looks like clint eastwood to me.”

“all more important than her coffee cup eyes.”

“she gives her curious cheshire cat grin below her deliciously troubled eyes.”

“a beautiful women’s beauty is in proportion to her utility.”

“oh that lost world. wait. dig this hallmark greeting card phrase, hollywood phrase, harlequin romance phrase: love at first sight.”

“apathy is a state that babies never enter.”

“sudden glimpse of a woman-shape. in a dress. devil red.”

“and my voice cuts deeper than narcotics.”

“finally i mutter. tofu. angels eat tofu.”

“realize that the blood rushing to my head reminds me a telephone ringing. an old-fashioned ring from before the reagan era.”

“and i’m still alive - dancing toward a fluorescent light buzzing at the bottom of this stairwell.”

“i see furious electricity glowing in each cloud of breath.”

“you’re just saying that because you think i’ll tell your mother that you had ice cream for breakfast. but i’m not your mother. i won’t sa a word. it will be our good-humor secret.”

“she was carrying two trays of —twenty? thirty? -- greeen ice cream cones. she headed back to the car. i should tell you that this car was white. the…woman began sticking the green cones upside down on the hood. then she went to the trunk. a moment later, there were light thumps on the roof.

then she gets behind the wheel. ‘now we’re a dinosaur,’ she said.”

“i’ll tell you that i don’t have a clue what beauty is - you all look like big mounds of vanilla to me.”

confession: i bought more books. i’m bad. this goal has significant road blocks.

in desperation for some reading material, i bought this play at a used book store for 75 cents on monday. it was short and i’m a fan of plays and hadn’t yet scene or read anything by miss tennessee williams.

it’s broken and sad and wonderful. i wish i could see it performed or perform in it.

some lines:

their eyes had failed them, or they had failed their eyes, and so they were having their fingers pressed down on the fiery, braille, alphabet of a dissolving economy.

he was a telephone man that fell in love with long distance—-so he gave up his job and skipped the light fantastic out of town.

you have to cultivate charm or vivacity or charm!

this was compensation for lives that passed like mine, without change or adventure.

you are the only young man that i know of who ignores the fact that the future becomes the present, the present becomes the past, and the past turns into everlasting regret if you don’t plan for it.

all he had to do is grin and the world was bewitched.

...given a momentary radiance, not everlasting….

whenever i pick up a shoe i shudder a little, thinking how short life is and what i am doing

some people say science clears up all mysteries for us. in my opinion they just keep adding on more.

i had an interesting discussion with my mom. when i was little, i collected glass/porcelain animals and such. she didn’t like that because the tone of the play was so sad, and it made her worry that i collected the same thing that the shy, broken, and heartbreaking character of laura collected.

interesting pacing…i think the book wasn’t so much plot-based or a slice of life either…it was mostly about how quickly (or slowly) things move. i enjoyed it…i wouldn’t call it a great book but an interesting one. the author’s writing style was a little confusing, borderline stream-of-consciousness. there’s a lot of sensory details, especially auditory, included. 50sish setting, role reversal for gender roles. some great lines.

select quotes i underlined:

”...she sounded like the type that’s only even been into the city to see okalahoma. at matinee. with boots on.”

“it’s surprising how loud teardrops are when they’ve got something hard to hit.”

“i will give you my heart if you just give me this hour.”

“give me alchemy that packaging promises that brings out my ees and raises my cheeks and softens my nose and lushens my lips.”

“when i didn’t hear the thudclick of his boot behind me any longer, i slowed to the clapclick of my heels, and then stopped all together.”

“memory is such a sloppy librarian.”

“click on the desk lamp she’s madison avenue. click it off and she’s honey and mommy.”

“in the mirror, my lipstick held its own, SundayRed, too strong for church but perfect for lay activities, as he settled in beside me and made me a headrest of his arm.”

i underline a lot more passages than i’m quoting….just really like some of hill’s word play.

there’s a lot of books i wish i hadn’t bought. sooooooo…....can i just read the good ones?