I’ve recently become aware of an incredible blog entitled Project Keaton on the Kitty Packard Pictorial. This project is a wonderful month-long tribute to Buster Keaton honouring his 116th birthday. Writers, artists, journalists and “everyday Joes and Janes” (Miss Carley’s words!) are invited to submit postings about Buster Keaton throughout the month of October. There are gorgeous photos and fascinating articles on the blog. I’m loving it!
Archive for the ‘what I’m reading’ Category
I just finished reading The Visible World by Mark Slouka. This wonderful book is a novel, a memoir, a mystery, a trilogy and a tragedy without being maudlin. Slouka knows how to write a good story with a gorgeous balance of wisdom and breathtaking narration. In the first part of the book “The New World– A Memoir”, the narrator is trying to uncover the mystery about his mother’s past in Prague during WWII. In the last section, “1942– A Novel”, the tragic love story is beautifully revealed. Here are a couple of my favorite passages:
“Someone once said that at the end of every life is a full stop, and death could care less if the piece is a fragment. It is up to us, the living, to supply a shape where none exists, to rescue from the flood even those we never knew. Like beggars, we must patch the universe the best we can.”
“For a long time, Mr Hanus explained to me that afternoon, nothing happens. This was very important, this nothing. It made things the way they were. For generations, he said, everything stays the same, looks the same – nothing changes…For a long, long time, nothing happens. And then it does.” This breathtaking passage is about the inevitability of change and how it appears so imperceptibly at first…“And still, even now, inside of you, it doesn’t feel as if anything has changed. Things go on. And they continue to do this until the moment something stops, and all those years of nothing tear like a curtain caught on a nail.”
“I’ve learned that human beings are like the Silly Putty I used to play with as a child, that pressed to a piece of brick, we take the imprint of this world, then carry it like a sealed letter marked God and God alone to our deaths. I’ve learned that nothing in this world resists us like ourselves. And I think, if this is true, how then can we hope to know someone else?”