The Possessed

For Christmas Natalie got a copy of Elif Batuman's The Possessed, a memoir which tells the tale of those who are consumed with the study of Russian literature, as she was when she earned a Comp Lit PhD at Stanford. The book also addresses the tension within the author between the desire to write and the need to study those who had written before. Naturally I had to borrow it forthwith. I am now about eighty pages in and can pronounce that it is thus far good if not great. Sometimes it gets dragged a little too far into the depths of trivia.

For the time being I will plow forward, as this has shouldered aside the German mystery novel I mentioned recently. No doubt I am encouraged in this task by Rob's excellent new La-z-boy recliner here by the window in the bedroom at George's house, which has been a great place to hide out while the house swarms with the activity of Berridges bustling about trying to figure out where to put things as the great exodus from Larchmont to North White Plains moves into its final chapters. Mary and Rob have returned to Larchmont for one last visit as we speak, to attend to some loose ends and because, I think, it is hard to let go of one's home of 45 years. Mary Lee will meet them there.

Natalie will go into the city to see the Broadway production of Alanis Morisette's Jagged Little Pill, while Graham and I will head into White Plains to see Adam Sandler's new film Uncut Gems, which has apparently been well-received.

The thing about the recliner is that it so completely takes ones body out of the equation, doing all the physical work, encouraging me to be pretty much a reading, writing, and phone calling machine. I can live with that. Though it reminds me that I do need to go out and get a little exercise too.