Wed Oct 11th, 2017
|07:22 pm - Touching Wood|
I shall be hearing thumps and bumps and the patter of little feet for a while, since rats are suspicious of new things. But for now I can tell myself that this too will pass: and with luck, pass before any ratlings appear. Exterminator was pleased that I hadn't seen any rat droppings, and the one I did see on the window sill with glass vases on it must have been a mouse, size notwithstanding. Rats don't like climbing, and rats would certainly have knocked all that glass down.
Not a thing. Too antsy over the weekend to settle down. Listened to ancient tapes instead, which sent me looking for certain missing ancient tapes (where is my Turandot?), which sent me looking through an archive box at the bottom of the linen cupboard, which led to unearthing a package of the vinyl tiles used in the front hallway thirty years ago, which led to wondering if they might be used again to replace a few hallway tiles that are all worn and scratched from too many bicycle tires. Must call handyman. Ill wind, as they say.
Somehow seem to be reading P.D. James, The Black Tower. I consider James to be fundamentally immoral and Dalgliesh not merely a very unlikely inspector but a very unlikely human being as well. Which said, there are times a PD James hits the spot, as when one is in Tokyo. We shall see f this survives the return of your regularly broadcast reality.
Maybe the escapist detective stories got from the library; maybe something else entirely. Talking to a friend lately who's reading Buddhism and philosophy, in search of the meaning of life. Told her I couldn't manage that level of heavy any more.
'But what do you read instead?' she asked.
'Detective stories, mostly.'
'I read a detective story once,' she said, 'and when I finished it I couldn't understand what I'd read it for.'
Thus the difference between the brainy and the brainless.
Oh, good! re: only a mouse! :) I wondered, when you said about the tea-bowl, because I could imagine a mouse accidentally nudging it from the shelf as it tried to sidle past.
Did great acts of extermination happen?
Why is P.D.James fundamentally immoral? I don't think I've ever read a Dalgliesh story, but I've seen a couple of television adaptations - I can see him as self-satisfied, in a false humility way, and self-indulgent, but don't think I could accuse him of anything worse than that. Or did you mean that she puts out a false picture of the world, fostering the continuance of the all-too-with-us world's ills?
I fancy that something was exterminated because today I'm getting that musty smell of tiny corpus disintegrating in the vents. This is much too soon for a rat or even a mouse; so I suspect it's the remains of Ratty's meal. Though exterminator said field mice are much too small to smell when they go.
It may not be James herself, maybe just Dalgleish's tight third person. At this point I don't remember. But at least one of her books carries the message that being an incestuous murderer isn't *that* bad as long as you admire and preserve the proportions of your 18th century rooms, while parvenu upstarts that renovate so as to destroy the lines of a room deserve everything they get. Certainly the architectural hardon for 'the graceful proportions of the original drawing room' crops up a lot. A subtle form of classism, I think: /of course/ tradesmen can't appreciate good architecture. They're much too common.
Self-satisfied, self-indulgent and snobbish. It probably is P.D. James as well as Dalgliesh, since making him a detective-poet is getting unnervingly close to making him a detective-novelist (see also: Harriet Vane).
|Date:||October 12th, 2017 06:47 am (UTC)|| |
I'm glad the exterminators were able to help! That's such a relief. As for brains, you have way more than I, I've just about given up on reading entirely.
It comes to all of us, and with some starts early ie the media-focussed wakamono. Lovely child at work, a nuclear biologist in her student avatar, was saying wistfully how I knew so many words she'd never heard. Like 'woe.' Which doesn't crop up on American TV much these days.
Ahahaha ... 'you have way more brains than I' - yes I feel that too! ^_^
I touch wood with you! Glad that the exterminators could help.
'I read a detective story once...' ? Oh dear, well it can't always be everyone's cup of tea. I'm too addicted to the stuff, even the badly written ones, and now of course I cheat and watch BBC reproductions of them on whatever screen any of them are available on.
However while I don't claim to be brainy ... I'm not brainless.
I suppose, if you're looking for the Meaning of Life, whodunnits is not the place to start. Or finish either. I've concluded that life has no meaning in the grand scheme, so shall stick with my unlikable English detectives.