Every winter, I think about rearranging the more than three thousand books and two dozen bookshelves in this room. But other than minor changes — a stack here, a stack there — it ends up staying the way it is: familiar, visually pleasing, organized according to no specific plan other than a theme or author here and there, or a type of binding. If I’m counting correctly, I acquired forty-two […]
Yesterday evening our eldest son was here, and, as we often do, we talked about where I might put more bookshelves, even though there doesn’t seem to be any place for them. I said I thought we should go ahead and build several, and that the simple truth of their physical presence would answer the question. There is room, in other words, but more shelves are needed to find it. […]
Running in the storm when the trees are rocking and reeling brings as good a feeling as when the weather is balmy and calm. But I’m aware that part of that feeling is derived from knowing I have a safe, warm house to return to. I also know that it might not always be safe and warm, just as I know that I won’t always be here, whatever may come. […]
Well, I’ll put them somewhere. Then I’ll move about among them, admire them as I pass, and take them every now and then from their shelf or stack. I’ll read a few lines at random; I’ll marvel at how they’re made, and feel their weight in my hands. For now, though, they’re still on my desk. Melville, as it turns out, is rather perfumey — something I didn’t notice at […]
In addition to running, I walk once or twice a day. Sometimes, even then, I find myself almost running. Either way, I’ve been aware for months how the barefoot-and-huarache experience has changed the way I feel and move. After years of being tortured by shoes, walking and running is a joyful, pain-free activity that’s made it harder for me to sit for more than fifteen or twenty minutes at a […]
William Michaelian 