Sunday Sundries, 251

1. AOTW: Coming home from W. Akron last week--from a dermatology appointment--I was nearly mashed on two separate occasions on I-77 N when two different pick-ups--in two different location--had failed to note that their lane was ending, and so they swerved in front of me, forcing me to brake--hard--both times to avoid collisions. A no-brainer this week--both this AOTW decision and the drivers of those vehicles!

2. I finished two books this week.

     - The first was Elizabeth Strout's 2019 sequel to Olive Kitteridge called Olive, Again. Now, I love Strout's work--have read all of it (and I also enjoyed the HBO mini-series based on the original OK), and, needless to say, I really enjoyed this one, too--although it has some dark, dark moments, moments that are, of course, common as we grow older and older, as Olive does in this novel.

In this story, Olive marries a man we met in the earlier book, deals with difficulties with her son and his family, encounters former students (she taught 7th grade math) in various scenarios, encounters diminishment and death here and there (don't want to give away too much). At the end she is facing her own Not-so-Brave New World--but in her own determined, courageous style.

Strout's technique in these two novels (and in her other ones, too) is to collect stories about her principal characters--there is not a traditional narrative flow--and, as is the case in all of our own real-life stories, sometimes we are the focus, sometimes not. And that's what she does here. In some of the stories Olive barely appears--or is only alluded to. In others, she is front and center.

I love it. We are always the major character only in our imaginations, not in reality. And Strout shows that brilliantly, over and over

     - The 2nd one is a novella by the remarkable Ian McEwan--The Cockroach (2019)

McEwan has some fun with Kafka's 1915 tale, The Metamorphosis, a story in which Kafka's character awakens one morning to discover he is ... a huge insect.

Here, an insect awakens and discovers he is a human being--and not just any human being but the Prime Minister of England, who then "guides" his country through a bizarre (and even insane) version of Brexit called "Reversalism," a mad economic plan that he is nonetheless able to convince his countrymen is the Best Thing Possible.

There is also an American President who will remind you of someone you've learned to know well the past few years.

Anyway, there is a surprise at the end about the PM and his Cabinet, and I'll not spoil it. The Cockroach is quick to read--simultaneously funny and deeply depressing. (Oh, are we a gullible species!) As the PM in his insect self comments about humans : "Their desires are so often in contention with their intelligence" (98). Aren't they, now!

3. Joyce and I enjoyed via Netflix a genial stand-up special with Seth Meyers, former SNL cast member and current host of Late Night. He told stories (often self-deprecating ones), and although he uttered a naughty word now and then, he was mostly interested in the amusing stories--not the shock value.
Link to trailer.

4. Haven't been to a movie in a while--something about the early darkness, the cold, the ever-increasing wussiness I'm experiencing as I age ... At this point I'm enjoying reading at night, streaming shows we like, snuggling (you know) ...

5. My dermatologist has left quite a few Freezer Marks, red ones, on my face. Always fun for a week or so until they weary of annoying me, scab over, drop off ...

6. Last Word--a word I liked this week from one of my various online word-of-the-day providers:

     - from wordsmith.org  I first encountered this word in The Taming of the Shrew. It's in that final speech that Kate makes to the other women present (and all said for the benefit of Petruchio, whom she's come to love--and vice-versa); the word appears in more than a half-dozen other locations earlier in the play, too:

KATHERINE: And when she [a wife] is froward, peevish, sullen, sour,

And not obedient to his honest will,

What is she but a foul contending rebel

And graceless traitor to her loving lord?

froward (FRO-wurd/urd)

adjective: Difficult to deal with; contrary.

ETYMOLOGY: From Middle English fro- (away, from) + -ward (moving or facing in a specific direction). Earliest documented use: 1340.

USAGE: “Sir Andrew, who was far from valorous, thought there might be wisdom in the Justice’s words, and remembered that he had troubles enough of his own with a froward wife without taking up the burdens of others.”   Rafael Sabatini; The Sea-Hawk; Martin Secker; 1915.