Undeniable glamour

It seemed the whole city would melt amidst the heat wave. However, she never sweated. Not a single bead. That summer, she got used to walk in her apartment wearing only her high heels, which she previously kept in the fridge all day long. That was one of her michievous rituals. One night, she was approaching the window to watch the fireworks when the telephone rang. “Hi… I made up my mind”. The voice sounded distant. “Do you want me to go?”. “Yes”, she said, and hung up. Then she reached for her cocktail and calmly turned on the stereo.

Watermelon Martini recipe:

1/2 oz fresh lemon juice
1 oz melon liqueur
1 oz citrus vodka
1 1/2 oz fresh watermelon juice

Shake ingredients with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with a sprig of mint, and serve.

And here is a short danceable list for those frequent moments of glamorous mood:

01. Soulphiction - Angela (original mix) · State of Euphoria (Sonar Kollective, 2006)
02. Carmen McRae - How long has this been going on (MJ Cole mix) · Verve Remixed (Verve, 2002)
03. Bebel Gilberto - Tanto tempo (Peter Kruder mix) · Tanto Tempo Remixes (Six Degrees, 2001)
04. AWA Band - Timba (12”) (Tiefschwarz club mix) · Timba (Defected, 2000)
05. Mary J. Blige - Just fine (12”) (Jovonn mix) · Disrespectful / Just Fine (White, 2008)

Photo: 5 ninth club, Meatpacking District, New York, 2007 © Loudsoul

Some thoughts on recent readings

Which metaphorical object could we employ to describe Paul Auster´s intricate plots in his novels? A jigsaw puzzle? A matrioshka? I personally would choose the expression ‘hub and spokes’. According to the Oxford American Dictionary, the phrase hub-and-spoke denotes ‘a system of air transportation in which local airports offer flights to a central airport where international or long-distance flights are available.’ The concept conjures up the image of a bicycle wheel, and Auster´s novels often seem to recall a group of wheels disparagedly intersecting with each other, with different main stories and characters tangled up with minor ones in a sort of complex web. Furthermore, you never know in which direction the story will be developing and which characters and events will end up being paramount to it. Something you may be absolutely certain about, however, and this is the author´s trademark, is that pure chance will play a big role at fuelling the plot. Admittedly, The Brooklyn Follies (London, Faber and Faber, 2005) may not reach the height of Paul Auster´s chef-d´oeuvre, Moon Palace, yet it is Auster in full swing, with its colorful characters, its detailed Manhattan-Brooklyn background, its convoluted turns of action and its masterly description of the overcoming power of chance and coincidence to alter our daily lives in unsuspected ways.

It may not be his best creation, and besides, it gives you the impression of being a hasty assembled potshumous book (nothing to blame on the author himself), but W. G. Sebald´s collection of incomplete literary sketches on Corsica -plus some essays- entitled Campo Santo (Barcelona, Anagrama, 2007; originally published in German with the same title by Carl Hanser Verlag, 2003), contains pieces which should be counted among his best works and are on a level with his masterpiece, Austerlitz. I am speaking of chapters such as ‘Campo Santo’, on the role of death in Corsican traditions; ‘Between history and natural history’ (on the literary description of total destruction)’, reviewing the German literary approach to the massive bombing of German cities by Western allies during World War II, something he addressed at lenght in his On the natural history of destruction; and ‘An attempt at restitution’, an inclassifiable bildungs-like short essay on his literary and personal maturation. I consider this last piece a jewel whose beauty and power to conjure up images and reflections may move anyone to tears.

I admit it. It may be heretic to some, but I am overwhelmed by the infinite sadness and the weighty role of routine in Fernando Pessoa´s account of a clerk´s immobile life -sure, there is an ultra-rich inner life in him, on the other hand- in Libro del desasosiego [Livro do desassossego / Book of disquietude] (Barcelona, Acantilado, 2003), despite the beautiful, musical translation into Spanish and the meticulous edition of Acantilado Publishers, a real pleasure for readers. As a second heresy (some will wonder why on earth should I compare these two Portuguese authors), I prefer the more classical in style works of Jose Maria Eça de Queiroz. However, there is much more of Pessoa to read before I give up.

Photo: Soho, New York City, 2007 © Loudsoul