your bartender may not have written the book but if he had i wonder if the essence would be any fonder a rendering....i've moved ahead but i gotta say "Lolita" is beyond treasured in my estimation and like with Woody Allen i have had to defend its (their) integrity against those who can only think in their own self-congratulating narrow lanes that said re. sex: my favorite line about that is by D.H. Lawrence something about "going to the Dark Gods" you probably will get to that later lol
Others will view us in dangerous territory, but I suspect we agree in this sense: I don't think D.H. Lawrence should ever have gone out of fashion. And though I don't admire Woody Alien's personal life choices, his work remains brilliant and I don't see any way around that fact. And D.H. Lawrence's _The Man Who Died_ maybe hits your point here?
i never read much of his stuff certainly not that but i do know he wrote deeply and knowingly of rural Englsh social hierarchies (Lady Chatterly draws away from this talent...) of course "Brideshead Revisited" now theres a beginning and ending to a novel which will NEVER be surpassed maybe because of Waugh's story in between?
This is a great chapter that needs to be read more than once. Kitchens and the home once again make an appearance... on this second re-reading of your memoir, it feels to me more about your home - or the archetype of the home - than about D. Homes in the past with your family, homes that were lost, kitchen utensils perfect for hitting D's head, a desolate temporary home in Missouri (where I noticed this time around that the most important items you brought were your books). D. opened the door for all these thoughts, reflections and memories to come through, and all these interesting encounters (I also want to know if the bartender wrote a book!) but it really doesn't feel to me now like a story about you and him. It's about so much more.
Such a grand comment about "home" and what I think it means and you do too. The bartender later, sadly, died. So, no book--and he was in his early fifties So sad. xx Mary
And your dream scene with your father’s fingers…I want to see this scene play out in a Lars Von Trier film—not as horror, but the harrowing experience of tenderness lost.
You pull me in deeper with every chapter, Mary. In this post I've loved getting to know so many people through your encounter with the bartender - not just him but you, your husband and your father. You're weaving your words with the important threads of so many people and experiences. Wonderful!
This installment carries a greater weight of sadness with it, I think, than earlier installments. It hurts. If readers want to experience a writer vulnerably traveling through the pain of her loss to reach her destination, this is a series to read. What is the destination? I don't see it yet. Do you know it, Mary? Are you there? If so, how well you withhold it. (Shh. Don't tell.)
your bartender may not have written the book but if he had i wonder if the essence would be any fonder a rendering....i've moved ahead but i gotta say "Lolita" is beyond treasured in my estimation and like with Woody Allen i have had to defend its (their) integrity against those who can only think in their own self-congratulating narrow lanes that said re. sex: my favorite line about that is by D.H. Lawrence something about "going to the Dark Gods" you probably will get to that later lol
Others will view us in dangerous territory, but I suspect we agree in this sense: I don't think D.H. Lawrence should ever have gone out of fashion. And though I don't admire Woody Alien's personal life choices, his work remains brilliant and I don't see any way around that fact. And D.H. Lawrence's _The Man Who Died_ maybe hits your point here?
i never read much of his stuff certainly not that but i do know he wrote deeply and knowingly of rural Englsh social hierarchies (Lady Chatterly draws away from this talent...) of course "Brideshead Revisited" now theres a beginning and ending to a novel which will NEVER be surpassed maybe because of Waugh's story in between?
This is a great chapter that needs to be read more than once. Kitchens and the home once again make an appearance... on this second re-reading of your memoir, it feels to me more about your home - or the archetype of the home - than about D. Homes in the past with your family, homes that were lost, kitchen utensils perfect for hitting D's head, a desolate temporary home in Missouri (where I noticed this time around that the most important items you brought were your books). D. opened the door for all these thoughts, reflections and memories to come through, and all these interesting encounters (I also want to know if the bartender wrote a book!) but it really doesn't feel to me now like a story about you and him. It's about so much more.
Such a grand comment about "home" and what I think it means and you do too. The bartender later, sadly, died. So, no book--and he was in his early fifties So sad. xx Mary
That's very sad indeed, but I'm glad you were able to capture a little of him here and bring him alive in our imagination.
I as well. I saw him often at restaurants where he worked and then learned that he had died--and my heart broke.
And your dream scene with your father’s fingers…I want to see this scene play out in a Lars Von Trier film—not as horror, but the harrowing experience of tenderness lost.
If only ... beauty that you are ...
“ I live in the shame of the betrayal that sets me free: I write it.” THIS!!!!!
The shame of the saying: the risk, too.
Your husband "didn't watch you undress." That was a big line for me. My fantasy is to watch each other. Good call on the bartender.
Thank you so, Bill. So kind.
You pull me in deeper with every chapter, Mary. In this post I've loved getting to know so many people through your encounter with the bartender - not just him but you, your husband and your father. You're weaving your words with the important threads of so many people and experiences. Wonderful!
What a generous comment. Thank you so, Rebecca. xo ~ Mary
Such a pleasure. xxx
This installment carries a greater weight of sadness with it, I think, than earlier installments. It hurts. If readers want to experience a writer vulnerably traveling through the pain of her loss to reach her destination, this is a series to read. What is the destination? I don't see it yet. Do you know it, Mary? Are you there? If so, how well you withhold it. (Shh. Don't tell.)
Yes, the sadness ... Great read, Jay. Thank you.
I wonder if the bartender has a book now?
This post digs deep. We're all broken in need of healing. I'm thinking of betrayal but also how we deal with a brutal childhood later on ...
Thanks for sharing Mary in such a beautiful way. You reveal your trust in the reader and it's wonderful to revisit Gioia.
Lovely, empathic. Thank you, Isabelle.