Arriving late Thursday night at Joe’s Pub (after having gotten mixed up and arrived early on Wednesday night, by mistake!), stumbling in the dark, sitting in the blogger’s-photographer’s-web guy’s corner, I catch my first reader, with his trilby jauntily tipped back, and to the side. His...
At some point last summer, I decided to declare the next 12 months of my life "The Year of Reading in Spanish." Since then I have read only novels and poetry in the Spanish language. Part of this was a sort of lingering feeling of failure at never having developed my reading skills in a language that I can speak with a fair amount of fluency. The other part was that a friend in Buffalo was doing something similar and so it provided us with some new intellectual fodder to discuss over coffee or on our long winter drives out to the Eastman house in Rochester to view foreign films.
The three writers that have with whose work I have been spending the most...
