EE is going on indefinite hiatus. Read through these comments over at Donigan Merritt’s blog if you’d like to know why.
Long story short: I’ve got work to do. The manuscript requires finishing, and all my efforts, spare and otherwise. I enjoy the hell out of writing this blog but it is rather a samsaric activity. It requires a prodigious amount of time to be done well and that’s the only way to do it.
So, for now, onwards and upwards with the manuscript. To wit:
The horse-drawn tram has vanished, and so will the trolley, and some eccentric Berlin writer in the twenties of the twenty-first century, wishing to portray our time, will go to a museum of technological history and locate a hundred-year-old streetcar, yellow, uncouth, with old-fashioned curved seats, and in a museum of old costumes dig up a black, shiny-buttoned conductor’s uniform. Then he will go home and compile a description of Berlin streets in bygone days. Everything, every trifle, will be valuable and meaningful: the conductor’s purse, the advertisement over the window, that peculiar jolting motion which our great-grandchildren will perhaps imagine – everything will be ennobled and justified by its age.
I think that here lies the sense of literary creation: to portray ordinary objects as they will be reflected in the kindle mirrors of future times; to find in the objects around us the fragrant tenderness that only posterity will discern and appreciate in the far-off times when every trifle of our plain everyday life will become exquisite and festive in its own right: the times when a man who might put on the most ordinary jacket of today will be dressed up for and elegant masquerade.
– Vladimir Nabokov (from “A Guide to Berlin”)