Aside from the coughs and colds that currently hold sway, another bug has hit home bigtime; Auster fever. Debbie is in the early stages of The New York Trilogy, whilst I’ve finished The Book of Illusions and have moved onto Oracle Night, which as far as I can tell is the latest Auster book there is.
Having discovered a new artist (new to me, that is) I often feel compelled to gather up and devour as much as money will allow, so it’s no great surprise that this is happening. In any event, reading is all I’ve been able to do today; my head feels as though it’s stuffed with cotton wool. I wish it was my nose that was stuffed instead.
A quick email exchange with Andrew Keeling; we both agree that Egg were a greatly underrated band. In keeping with the prog theme I spent a portion of this morning listening to Pink Floyd’s Ummagumma. One side features young men grappling with the certainties of their recent past whilst the other contains four individuals looking for a direction to move in. Fascinating.
And now, it’s back to Paul Auster.