Pigling Bland

More misdeeds – worse ones – but I won’t bore you with them.

Tonight I became acquainted with a lovely book of romance … suspense … pathos … and rural dystopia – one that stands with other European narratives of displacement (war narratives, in particular) – Beatrix Potter’s “Tale of Pigling Bland.”

A well-dressed, polite young pig walks down the road (as one does). Do passersby treat him with respect? No, they halt him and demand to see his papers. We are but a step or two from Spiegelman’s Maus.

I read out loud to Daniel. He fell asleep, but I continued on and was touched.

I am less ill now, but the boys have been having colds and fevers. Karin seems OK.

Library statistics

Karin will go back to her job on Monday, leaving me alone with Daniel and Samuel and Jasper and Ziva … and the mice, who seem to have found a passage from the mud-room into the basement, to our dismay. Jasper killed four mice today. Or, I assume, he is killing the fourth mouse; he has it with him under a bed.

The other night, Samuel and I read The Tale of Squirrel Nutkin, which is especially bloody. I felt some revulsion. Not so much after today’s infestation.

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The St. Joseph County library system has just one book by R.K. Narayan: Waiting for Mahatma (an e-book). This, despite Narayan’s sales, acclaim, cultural salience, etc.

Not that I’ve read anything by Narayan. But if I ever do, it won’t be thanks to the SJCPL.

It’s not that the SJCPL is oblivious to Narayan. Its catalog includes the following e-books: (a) three critical studies of Narayan; (b) one book discussing Narayan along with three other Indian authors; and (c) four GALE “study guides” on different titles by Narayan.

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I decided to write down the library branches of every book I found through the electronic catalog from March 8 to April 8. (Hard copies only.)

• Book 1: Francis, Francis, Francis, Main, River Park.
• Book 2: Centre, Main, Main.
• Book 3: Main.
• Book 4: Centre, River Park.
• Book 5: Centre, German, Main.
• Book 6: Main.
• Book 7: Main.
• Book 8: Centre, Centre, Centre, Centre, Francis, Francis, Francis, Francis, German, German, Main, Main, River Park.
• Book 9: Main, Main.
• Book 10: Main.
• Book 11: Main, Main, Francis.
• Book 12: Main.
• Book 13: Main.
• Book 14: Francis, River Park, Western (my branch!).
• Book 15: Centre, LaSalle, Main, Tutt.
• Book 16: Main.

Summary: Centre, 8 copies; Francis, 9; German, 3; LaSalle, 1; Main, 18; River Park, 4; Tutt, 1; Western, 1.

The books that interest me are not kept in the neighborhood where I live.

Of course, I can request just about any book in the system. I simply go to my branch and pick it up after a few days.

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A good blog I found: Down Among the “Z” Movies. Better reviews than mine, though writing about turkeys probably isn’t hard to do. Watching them is hard to do.

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P.S. It turns out, Jasper hasn’t killed the fourth mouse.

Usually he is more prompt.

Karin tired of waiting; she rescued the mouse and took it outside. I don’t believe it will fare very well. It seemed rather dazed.

This week, there has been snow.

Highsmith; Dickens; Potter; Schulz

We had to tell Karin’s dad that we couldn’t attend his Christmas party this year due to COVID-19. He looked terribly sad. Then he perked up when he saw Patricia Highsmith’s The Price of Salt on my bookshelf. It seems he enjoyed watching the movie Carol, which is based upon The Price of Salt. (Also, his girlfriend’s name is Carol.)

I haven’t read The Price of Salt or seen Carol, but what I am reading, for the first time, is A Christmas Carol.

It’s pretty funny. Some do-gooders ask Scrooge to donate to a homeless shelter during the Christmas season, and Scrooge is like, What? Are there not enough prisons?

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Beatrix Potter is hard to read to Samuel – we don’t often get farther than two or three pages before he loses interest – but the other day we did make it through all of The Tale of the Flopsy Bunnies (the link is to the Project Gutenberg page). I kept laughing out loud, which must have been very confusing for Samuel.

Then I remembered how, in Snoopy Come Home, Snoopy laughs and laughs at Miss Helen Sweetstory’s Bunny Wunny books until the librarians throw him out onto the sidewalk.

I wonder if Schulz was recalling his own experience of reading Beatrix Potter.

September

I continue to walk home from IUSB. Today it took less than an hour.

I continue to run on the Riverwalk. For a while it was cold enough that I had to bundle up, but today I was able to wear shorts. The fog was picturesque. The water-treatment plant stank worse than usual.

On the weekends, I continue to play soccer. Like Juan Román Riquelme, I contribute some little effort and much flamboyance. Last Sunday, I wore pink stockings and scored three golazos. Also, for long periods, I tended goal — flamboyantly.

(At first, Meridith refused to drive me in her car, because of my stockings. But then she relented.)

(Also, my parents attended the game and recorded me on video. They were eager to be near to their child. Today they returned to Ecuador.)

On Sunday I spent my church-time in the nursery. Mostly I stood back and allowed the children to play with one another. (I did have to break up one small fight.) But then one child asked me to read to her. We sat down together, and three or four others cuddled up beside us.

(Next time, I may bring my own books. I wonder if these children are old enough for Peter Rabbit.)

And now I’ll stop bragging and disclose that this has been an anxious month for me. In the tutoring office, my stomach is in knots because so many other people are in the room, or could enter into it. Other worries are ruminated in my mind. But my condition is improving (how else would I conclude this post?); these last few days, I’ve enjoyed some peace.