The mall rats
Day Two of the winter holiday. Mary exercises at her gym; Martin cleans; Stephen cooks; I read.
Later, it might be interesting to watch some TV.
Stephen asks me to go with him to the mall. He’s itching to leave the house. Well, the mall does have a bookstore, and I do want to buy Dance Dance Dance — the sequel to the Murakami novel that I’ve just finished reading — and The Luminaries, the most recent Man Booker winner.
We’re all set to ride the bus when Mary comes downstairs: “All right, I’ll drive you to the mall.”
Then she sees Bianca sleeping on a chair.
“Hello, my little furry friend. You’re so cute. Who is it who loves you? Who is it who takes you to the vet?
“I love you, Bianca. Will you cuddle with me? Do you enjoy being cuddled with? Do you like it when I hold you? Will you miss me when I go away to the mall?”
We’re all set to ride the bus when Mary comes downstairs: “All right, I’ll drive you to the mall.”
Then she sees Bianca sleeping on a chair.
“Hello, my little furry friend. You’re so cute. Who is it who loves you? Who is it who takes you to the vet?
“I love you, Bianca. Will you cuddle with me? Do you enjoy being cuddled with? Do you like it when I hold you? Will you miss me when I go away to the mall?”
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
Mary drives us to the mall.
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
At Barnes & Noble I run into an IUSB student who got an F in my course. Friendly as always, he shakes my hand. I glare. I’m not very gracious in these situations.
Mary buys me The Luminaries, which turns out to be an 830-page (zodiacal!) mystery set in 19th-century New Zealand. Its prose style reminds me of Kate Beckinsale’s in the movie Cold Comfort Farm (“The golden orb had almost disappeared behind the interlacing fingers of the hawthorn”) … which is a good thing, in my opinion.
The Luminaries is Eleanor Catton’s second novel. Aged twenty-eight, four years my junior, Catton is the youngest recipient of the Man Booker Prize. Jeez Louise, I feel unaccomplished.
The Luminaries is Eleanor Catton’s second novel. Aged twenty-eight, four years my junior, Catton is the youngest recipient of the Man Booker Prize. Jeez Louise, I feel unaccomplished.