Yesterday my dad bought a 1.5 million candle-power flashlight. A bit like measuring cars in mouse-power. We tested it out, and mom and I are quite sure that a million and a half candles would make more light than that.
Mom, in a conversation about vegetarianism, fair treatment of animals, etc: "I would like to buy eggs from a farm that plays the Allelujah Chorus every time a chicken lays an egg. Into that chicken's particular headphones."
E.M. Forster on Proust (on Scott Moncrieff's translation). Brilliant, hilarious, wrong:
"All the difficulties of the original are here faithfully reproduced. A sentence begins quite simply, then it undulates and expands, parentheses intervene like quick-set hedges, the flowers of comparison bloom, and three fields off, like a wounded partridge, crouches the principal verb, making one wonder as one picks it up, poor little thing, whether after all it was worth such a tramp, so many guns, and such expensive dogs, and what, after all, is its relation to the main subject, potted so gaily half a page back, and proving finally to have been in the accusative case."
I'm in Nova Scotia for a week now, visiting my parents. They have a little house (pink) that is a paradise to read in. I intend to resist all parental exhortations to explore the outdoors (which is, indeed, magnificent around here) and stay in the sitting room, which looks out onto the ocean on both sides, reading, all the day long.
My intended reading list: Henry James' "The American Scene
(for Gabe: "Heavy with fruit, in particular, was the whole spreading bough that rustled above me during an afternoon, a very wonderful afternoon, that I spent in being ever so wisely driven, driven further and further, into the large lucidity of—well, of what else shall I call it but a New Jersey condition?") Chekhov's stories Thomas De Quincey's "Confessions of an English Opium Eater"
(mom: Opium? Ed must have a copy of that. -- Ed! Do you have "Confessions of an English Opium Eater?" -- No, his copy is in Vermont) Philip Pullman's "His Dark Materials" trilogy
"The Education of Henry Adams"
(marian adams: Yay!
me: What, is he your uncle?
marian adams: No, my great-great-uncle.)
KFC in Nova Scotia offers you the opportunity to "Poutine Your Fries" for $1.50.
I wonder is the word as infused with whoreishness to an actual french speaker as it is to my unschooled ears?