Outside events unsettling, upsetting. Spent today in a struggle to get back into routine. Writing a sestina is a significant challenge, not achievable within the time left to me, I think.
Read Essays by Coetzee, thought I was very lucky to find one on Walter Benjamin, contemporary of my grandfather's - very different thinking - no better than the book I attempted to read about him. One feels only impatience with WB, things started, not finished, yet he is deemed to be such a great thinker. Too hard for me, at this point. Nevertheless, some good ideas for The Book, reflections on, criticisms of German society of the time, I'll find a young someone to say them. Shall photocopy the chapter.
I must get back to poetry. Reading about WWII and Jews is not good reading at bedtime.
Jane returned Saramago to me unread, (she stopped at page 29) she has no patience with his long sentences. I have yet to meet a single person who likes him besides me, yet his books at the Central Library are worn from being handled and the latest one has a waiting list. Unity says that it is marching out the door. So far the only satisfactory explanation I can find is that the humour is Latin/Mediterranean, to me it is laugh-out-loud. I can hear his phrases in my mind. Maybe this does not happen to Anglo Saxons.
The rest of my week looks routine, so hopefully no more upsets and back to work.