I thought I was going to write more down here in Chile than I had been writing than I had written back at home. Well, that wasn't even close to the case. I spent most of my time hanging out with the family and friends and surfing. I guess I had time at night to write, but I was so exhausted from surfing that I'd just fall asleep before I could even get the computer out. Not that it's a bad thing but that's what happened.
I didn't even finish a book. I don't know the last time I went on a trip of two weeks, especially with this much travel time and didn't finish a book. I started out reading V. by Thomas Pynchon, but I don't think I was quite in the mood for him. He's more of a guy that I like to read when the surf isn't good. I'm not sure what that means, but most of my reading of him has occured when the surf isn't very good. I read Gravity's Rainbow last year while I was in Chile, but in Viña where the surf is no where near as good as Pichilemu. I think it's a book that I like to be at full attention to read, and during the day seems to be the best for that, save the 45 minutes after lunch when I am utterly worthless.
It's not a book that I can read in the 30 minutes before I go to bed every night. I find that I just end up rereading the same four pages because I don't remember a thing that has happened. It's really annoying, I think I'm going to start it back up after I finish the book to which I switched, Ficciones por Jorge Luis Borges.
He's a much better read for those thirty minutes before bed because, despite being in spanish, I find that the short stories and the wonderment of each tale seems to keep me more closely tied into the story. Yeah, I still go back and re read stuff, but it's usually a lot quicker rereads, so I can get a story in every night. Of course, I wasn't noticing this until the end of a very short trip so I've only read the first three stories in Ficcionnes.
I think Borges is one of my favorite writers because he emits this wise grandfatherly voice. The kind of voice that would keep me spellbound when I was a kid (and does now). It's definitely not a fatherly voice, because it lacks the fidelity to realism. Grandfathers (not mine really, but in general) have a lovely way to embellish things until they are no longer anything remotely close to what the real story was, but it doesn't matter because they can see it so well and so enrapt in it that their charisma envelopes you like blankets fresh out of the dryer. It's lovely, and sweet and laced with fantastic ideas and philosophies. All this is why I love Borges. He makes me feel like that enchanted kid again. He inspires me in spite of the fact that I know I could never write like him. He inspires because I know that he'd be happy that I am writing. Maybe that sounds simple but in my head he's grandfatherly, and grandfathers seem to emit a gentle pride with their grand children.
No comments:
Post a Comment