There is something about the heat today that doesn't like me. Usually I'm OK until it hits 35 degrees and it is only 30 right now. So I am in my bedroom with my really old evaporative air conditioner on, sitting on my bed, with my computer, my knitting, my book and my dogs - they are not on the bed but beside it. We are all happy and lazy and snoozy. It is the first day of the new year and I am happy to see it in right - reading.
The Aunt's Story is such a treat. It is intellegent and seductive. Im on page 76 and I have alread gathered a crop of words and lines to feed me. I just read the most delightful passage:
"Because he had to make some motion to hold up the darkness that was pressing down. It was too big. When Frank Parrott was on the road, droving, or for some reason overtaken by darkness, he could not scrape together a few sticks quickly enought, to make a little fire, to sit against.
'You forget,' he said. 'It's so long between dances you forget to buy a new pair of shoes. I remember at Singleton, in the autumn, there was a ball, an' these damn shoes pinched so bad I took them off after supper and danced on my feet.'
Frank Parrott laughted. He laughed a tthe vision of himself. He had lit his little fire."
That, to me, is brilliance. And Patrick White has littered these little gems throughout the story. I don't even need to be on my toes to catch them. They are right there for the taking. Where else in this world of ours can you find diamonds and pearls without digging or diving? In books!
I'm not going to get ahead of myself (never do that, ahem) but I think this may be my Patrick White year.
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