I’m enjoying Melville’s Omoo, and am now about one hundred twenty-five pages in. More story-like than Typee, it’s worth reading for its sailing and sea vocabulary alone. And it’s certainly not without its descriptive humor, as shown in the opening of the twenty-eighth chapter: In a few moments, we were paraded in the frigate’s gangway; the first lieutenant — an elderly, yellow-faced officer, in an ill-cut coat and tarnished gold […]
Believe it or not, upon its first publication, An Absurdist Play was liked well enough by a high school teacher that he used it in a poetry segment of his English class. The experiment failed, as I thought it might, and for his valiant effort, the teacher was met with puzzled expressions perhaps not unlike those suggested in the stage directions of the poem itself. I doubt the teacher really […]
As a father, I know that there is at least one good thing I have done for our four children, and that was teaching them, by daily example, the value and fun of wordplay. And to this day, now in their thirties and forties, their conversation is vital and alive with puns and ridiculous combinations of words and meanings. They can read something like Letters and Figs without missing a […]
I gave up on Leopardi’s Zibaldone long ago. I’ve read thousands upon thousands of pages of other things since, so it was not because of its length, which I still regard as one of its saving graces. I stopped because I found it too generally negative in tone. My friend and fictional alter-ego, Stephen Monroe, was also negative, but his negativity was leavened with humor; also, he knew he was […]
What it comes down to, I suppose, is that most, if not all, of my behavior is neurotic. How could it be otherwise? I’m assaulted by the news of killings every day, of mass shootings and war; I’m exposed to incessant, unscrupulous advertising, noise, and to flashing, brightly lit screens; outdoors, I walk on concrete and asphalt, indoors on artificial flooring; I drive a car; I harvest most of my […]
Yes, I’m in pretty good shape for the shape I’m in, but I’m also banged up around the edges. For instance, no one would look at me and think I’m younger than my age. They’d likely think I’m older. Be that as it may, I’m often greeted as if it’s understood I have a sense of humor. And just the other day, the tow truck driver who came to rescue […]
It would be wrong to characterize my childhood as anything but enchanted. To do so may seem like a combination of denial and choice, but my memory of those days is clear enough that I still feel it’s true. And while I don’t remember what happened between each individual memory, I clearly recall the daily rhythm and atmosphere, my awareness of the passing seasons, flowers blooming around the house, the […]
Not many days ago, and an equally uncertain number of nights, I read backward and aloud the last page of Samuel Beckett’s The Unnamable. Standing before our big front window, paced by the commas, I read the words slowly and with feeling. When I reached the top of the page, I wondered if the author might not have done the same thing himself. It’s possible he could even have written […]
Light is relentless. Darkness is sin. But which is which, my friend? Where does one end and the other begin? Sorrow is beauty. Humor is sad. But in the beginning, that wasn’t my plan. And Job said, Begin again. [ 815 ]
William Michaelian 