Book read: J. Maarten Troost, The Sex Lives of Cannibals. Mistitled; there is almost no sex and no cannibalism at all, unless you count the sex and cannibalism among island dogs. This is Troost's comic memoir of the couple of years he spent mooching about Kiribati, a miniscule independent island nation in the South Pacific, pretending to write a novel, while his partner worked for an NGO. It's titled and marketed as sort of a funny romp/travelogue. It is certainly hilarious; Troost has a witty, dry voice and many of the things that happen are either incredibly funny or so sad/frustrating that the only thing to do is laugh. Anyone who was working overseas in 1996 will wince at the memory of the international reach of The Macarena. But it's more sophisticated and serious than it makes itself out to be; there is a lot of subtle anthropological observation, as well as critiques of international aid work, US culture, globalism and environmental policy, etc. Troost is a clever guy. This must have been successful, since his next book, about Vanuatu and Fiji, is coming out soon.
Bookcases: I was interested by the mass adoration of Henry Higgins' library; we had the original cast recording on vinyl when I was a kid, but I've never seen the movie. I actually am not a fan of having a library room in my house; I like having the books spread out everywhere. I also like white-painted built-ins as opposed to the dark gleaming wood-and-brass thing (this is possibly a result of living in a series of small houses/apartments that need to be white so as to seem bigger!). My favorite built-ins I've lived with were in a couple of apartments we lived in at the boarding school where my mother taught in the late 80s; a long living room with a fireplace at one end, flanked by 5-foot white built-ins with 2-foot windows above them. That sort of thing. Of course, if you're going to go with the whole designated library in your house, why not dream BIIIIIG:
http://www.americaslibrary.gov/jb/progress/jb_progress_library_2_e.htmlI finished a New Yorker article on the bus this morning that I just loved, for its tone and combination of life as a scholar and life as a military pilot: MEETING E.P.; PERSONAL HISTORY, SAMUEL HYNES. The New Yorker. New York: Jun 12, 2006. Vol.82, Iss. 17; pg. 74. Must cut out and send to Silly Alan, who flies and is writing a dissertation (though has not used Ezra Pound as a scholarly resource, as far as I know.)
Finally, it turned out there is a Singer store in my town, very nearby! So I walked in, handed the man the wee manual for my sewing machine, said, "I need needles for this" and he said "14s?" and I said "yes" as if I knew what he was talking about and he had them right there. He said it's a good model. They do tune-ups and repairs and I should really take it in to be cleaned, but it's heavy and won't fit in our car. In any case, I now have 9 needles, which should keep me a while (although the man scolded me for sewing over needles. How else are you supposed to do it? Maybe other people are more coordinated than me.)
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