For over a week, I tried to finish reading a book that I didn't like very much. I always feel compelled to finish a book that I start, even when I don't like it; and it takes me forever to read a book that I don't like. I thought about giving up on it, but then I decided to just alternate between it and a different book--there are so many in my Kindle backlog that I want to read.
The book in question is Alison Lurie's Imaginary Friends. It takes place in upstate New York in (I think) the late 1970s or early 1980s, as a pair of social science professors attempt to infiltrate a very small religious sect that believes (sincerely, I think, though I'm only about halfway through) that a higher order of beings from a planet named Varna have achieved true enlightenment, and that a small group of chosen people on Earth can achieve similar enlightenment if they adhere to a series of ever-weirder made-up teachings. A review that I read characterized the novel as a satire of academia, particularly social science, and I guess that's true enough. It's better as a commentary on people who are willing to believe a lie, no matter how obvious. Particularly relevant now, of course, but I can't seem to stay engaged in the story.
It's Sunday now; a rainy Sunday after a very rainy Saturday. So instead of swimming, I'm at home, watching "The Queen," which was free on demand. I love this movie. This is the third or so time that I've seen it. I love the part at the beginning, when the Queen is sitting for her portrait, and chatting with the artist about how fortunate he is to be allowed to vote. She envies him "the joy of being partial." That's the attraction of politics, I suppose. It's the tribal instinct, the joy of being partial, of picking a side.
I love Queen Elizabeth, too. On her twenty-first birthday in 1947, she gave the speech that included the famous passage "I declare before you all that my whole life, whether it be long or short, shall be devoted to your service." She meant it, and she has kept her promise throughout her whole, long life. I'm a small-r republican by conviction, but a royalist at heart.
*****
Later, the sun came out for just about an hour. I ran to the pool, and swam laps for 45 minutes, stopping only when a thunderclap prompted a long whistle from the lifeguard's chair. The water, after two days of rain, was no longer warm, but not quite cold--a perfect contrast with the still-warm, humid air. I fell asleep later, feeling as if I was still moving through cool water.
*****
And now it's Tuesday, 10:15 PM, and I just finished work. I worked until 10 PM last night, too; and also worked for a few hours on Saturday. So I'm tired. Tired and out of sorts. It's been raining for two days, and I haven't been swimming, and my eyes are tired, and my head is aching; and so obviously, what would I do except sit in front of the computer and write even more?
*****
I finally gave up (temporarily) on Imaginary Friends, but ironically, I'm sort of itching to know how it turns out. So I'll revisit it again, a chapter at a time, until I finally finish. I'm reading a memoir now, Lynn Freed's Leaving Home: Reading, Writing, and Life on the Page. It's quite good, two-part, colon-separated title aside. Tiresome. The title, that is.
And I'm leaving home next week; on vacation, I mean. We're going to Montreal, a place I've never visited, but for some reason, seemed the only reasonable place to go. I reserved our hotel rooms early in the month, and then called last night to confirm. I can stumble along in something that resembles French, but I can't conduct business in any language except English, so when the desk agent answered the phone in English, I immediately said "Bonsoir--parlez-vous Anglais?" And she said, as I expected she would, "Mais oui! Bien sur!" Maybe a week in Montreal will improve my French. I'm sure that it will improve my attitude. Au revoir, until next week.
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