I read everyday, 60-90 minutes a day on average. Sometimes I read multiple books at once — theory in the morning, fiction at night. I used to say I didn’t read fiction that often, but I read it more and more now. Having moved to Paris recently (from New York City) I’m having to find new favorite places and times to read. It depends on the light, how many pages are left in that particular book, if it’s cold… I tend to save the last 30 to 40 pages of a book for a beautiful day when I can read outside. Which is when reading different books at once comes in handy, I can create delays and alternate books so that I get to fully enjoy every book. There are moments when I don’t have anything new to read at the house and that feels really terrible (because a book I ordered has taken longer than expected to arrive or to be shipped or I finished something sooner than I thought I would) It’s like having eggs in the kitchen. I always have to have eggs; if I don’t I feel like the house is void.
I’ve read this book 3 times, recently I read it again because my friend Pierre was reading it and I was also without anything new at home to read. I’m a huge Brian Eno fan. I think Caetano Veloso and Brian Eno are my favorite pop artists. This book is a journal he kept and wrote on everyday in 1995 and it’s fascinating, funny, warm, and filled with things I didn’t know. I’ll probably keep reading it over and over and over again.
I love this book very much. I’m still not quite sure why, but I did speak about it with my analyst, and reading it made me ponder paternal relationships in my life (not just with my father, but the way I relate to other men) and I wished I’d read it sooner. It really reached inside of me, speaking to the young man I was and the man I’d become. It’s fiction (the backdrop is the end of Austro-Hungarian empire) but the main character goes on these 3, 4, 10 page monologues that are very beautiful and weighted essays on various things. Wish I’d read this one when I was turning 31 for some reason. I read it a little later.
These are essays that are very personal and sometimes a bit dark. I enjoy his writing a lot. I think I wanted to recommend ‘Essayism’, but I don’t have the book with me, it’s in a container that in its turn is in a ship, making its way to continental France, so I can’t take a picture of it, but Objects in this Mirror came with me. He’s great. Read them both.
The title kills me. Surprisingly, I sped through ’Swann’s Way’ and very quickly got into this one (the second book in the series), and I can’t believe how beautiful some of these pages are. It’s not just impressive, but transportative and imagetic. And again, entire PAGES of unparalleled beauty. What this man did with language without parallel.
