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Monday, July 23, 2012

On Leaving America - Part 6


We’re getting rid of books. Not fun. Both Lou and I are avid readers. She’s a psychotherapist and reads such fascinating tomes as: Essays on Advanced Phenomenology, and one of my own favorites, Theories of Neurophysiology. Real page turners. She also reads fiction in both Swedish and English. Big Stieg Larson fan of course. She turned me on to Henning Mankell. I am too embarrassed to admit how many Pattersons I’ve read and can’t recall the plot of any. They were fun to read, something to pass-time-on-the-plane books. 

Been through all of  Steven King’s work. Those plots I remember . . . Cormac McCarthy. I’ll keep those and doubt I’ll ever look a them again—shelf decorations. I have drifted into talking books – CDs. I run one novel in the car. CDs turned my commuting hell to not-so-bad when I was working, and I’ve kept the habit. There’s another story going on an Ipad by the couch at home. I listen for an hour or more with a martini in the evenings and there’s still another novel on a player I keep beside the bed. It’s better than a sleeping pill—like mother reading to you, only better at it. I’ve a quite a lot of hard back books as well. Were getting rid of hundreds and it isn’t fun to take them to the Goodwill store. More sorrow born of parting. Buddha would call this an attachment to sense objects. An addiction to get over. Not so easy letting go. The only other option is to throw them all away. Surely the Buddha would not approve at such waste. I wonder why there’s such attachment to the things. In some dark recess of my mind there is the thought, I’m going to read this again someday. When I get old and there is nothing else to do. This book holds valuable information I might need some day. Right—like I couldn’t find it on Google. Some books have waited for reopening more than 40 years—untouched. Perhaps being a writer causes a psychotic bonding, an obscure respect. The printed word. If anyone of you live in Seattle, we’ve a bunch of  Swedish books on the way out, most mainstream literary fiction, and some poetry. It isn’t easy getting rid of books.

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