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No Luggage Needed Trader Joe’s Pomegranate and Blueberry ice cream and books were on my mind this past weekend, not writing. The weather isn’t helping either. I am definitely a cool-and-cold weather person, and this time of the year makes my ass, my mind, and my ambition all slow down to the speed of rush hour traffic. But I did rev myself up enough Friday night to make Lemony Leek Soup, Veal Scallopini, and Island Salad (tomatoes, mango, and red onion rings on basil with a simple vinaigrette) before tumbling into bed with a book I’ve had on my shelves for a long time: Sea and Sardinia by D. H. Lawrence. It’s a bit odd I haven’t gotten around to reading this before now. Well written travel books are one of my interests, and this one describes the excursion taken by Lawrence and his-then wife, Frieda (‘the queen bee”) from Sicily to Sardinia and back in 1921. The opening line—Comes over one an absolute necessity to move—is one that appeals to me now. Some research reveals it is not considered among his best work, but I occasionally poke around in some authors’ less than celebrated books because I can get a more rounded feeling for their work than if I just read their best. I don’t consider it a waste of my reading time, but neither do I dwell in something that is simply . . . bad. I just like to know a bit more than I can by leaping from one “best” book to another. What’s making this particular reading even better is that the copy I have is a first edition, unfortunately jacketless, published in 1921 by Thomas Seltzer. It possesses eight color plates by Jan Juta, a painter and muralist closely associated with Lawrence. Indeed, his 1920 portrait of the writer now hangs in the National Portrait Gallery in London. So while I am only two dozen pages into it—I fell asleep fast Friday night—I am enjoying his descriptions of Mt. Etna (“If you see her you must slowly take off your eyes from the world and go a naked seer to the strange chamber of the empyrean. Pedestal of heaven!”), their trip from home to the train station, and the Sicilian men who are gathered to await the train to their jobs. I am entranced by Lawrence’s prose, his way of describing people, things, and experiences that is anathema to grammar yet holds a mystery and beauty that only a master can produce. It’s old fashioned. And it’s powerful. It feels like it travels, and it’s inviting me along. No luggage needed. Upcoming Book Festivals and Fairs: The Pub House: Imaging Books & Reading: Of Interest: Until next week, read well, read often and read on!
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