Perhaps Michelle mentioned Marie Chaix to me; something compelled me to order these three that seem in some way connected, but that is arguably true of any writer’s work. More Balzac, in this case rereading a favourite from childhood that I’ve not revisited since. Also another Morselli that from its description was irresistible.
These will see me through what is left of winter.
An occasional springlike fragrance in the air buoys the soul, yet my reading still speaks of winter: a mixed clutch of writers, some new to me, others old favourites. The re-emergence of one of my favourite blogs inspired me to sample both Morselli and Guilloux; Balzac, a long-time companion is also calling.
At the moment, I am reading Adrian Nathan West’s translation of Harmut Lange’s Positive Nihilism: My Confrontation with Heidegger. Its slim form belies its depth, perfect for a wintry evening.
Perfect for the season also is Heinrich Ignaz Franz von Biber’s Passacaglia. Its opening four notes perhaps refers to the traditional hymn to the Guardian Angel,
Time's Flow Stemmed 