So, one of the advantages of your actual physical pain?  It doesn’t usually give you a lot of time to worry about your emotional pain.  Today is hot and humid, and rain has been threatened since Wednesday.  And my joints ache.  I dragged myself around the kitchen this morning, feeding the cats and making myself coffee, and muttering “ouch, ow, jeez that hurts!” a lot.  On the upside, I can take aspirin for it, and I haven’t had a single over-the-top anxious moment yet today.

And with this greeting me as I sit down to work, how much misery could I reasonably be expected to construct for myself?  There’s something about a little foot sticking out from under a blanket, that eases one’s mind.  Peebie is under her blanket and all is right with the world.  Also, Leo has stopped acting so weird, so that’s good.

416RvkJH10L._SY346_[1]And last night I started an ARC by Salman Rushdie, entitled The Golden House which is due out in early September.  My first instinct, when I put it down, was to ask myself why I’d never read his work before.  It’s so warm and personal, and even beautiful.  Now I want to read All His Things. You know how that is, right?  I’d quote some of it to you, but since it’s an ARC (Advance Reader Copy, for those who don’t know), and not proofed, I really can’t.  But I would like to.  I would like to seduce you into reading his words because I think you will fall in love with them.

Fortunately there seems to be a ton of Rushdie books available through ThriftBooks at very reasonable prices, so I’m going to put all of them on my wishlist and work my way through.

And it occurs to me now that I’ve been terribly fortunate this year in that I’ve discovered a lot of writers I truly enjoy and want to follow.  I’ve liked Victor La Valle for a long while, of course, but only this year began to read him in earnest.  I loved Amor Towles’ A Gentleman in Moscow, and thought I didn’t like his earlier book, I’m still open to reading anything he has to say.

Kij Johnson, Kate di Camillo, and Nnedi Okorafor were all happy accidents for me, but I owe thanks to Barbara Young for my introduction to Ariana Franklin, and to The Housemate for introducing me to the wonderfully strange world of Jeffrey Ford.  Thanks to Neil Gaiman for recommending Lavie Tidhar, a wonderfully transgressive author, and to the wild enthusiasm of so many people for introducing me to Coulson Whitehead, Kathleen Rooney, George Saunders, and Min Jin Lee.

Some of the other authors I’ve read this year may or may not prove to be favorites, but that’s okay.  If even one of their works resonates with me, I’m that much  richer for the experience.

Hmmm, that was nearly as helpful as the aspirin.  Thanks too, to my perennial assistants, Peebie of the Jellybean Toes, and Leonardo di Floofi, who has not let fame go to his head.  he’s still the same little guy who has to touch the computer when I’m trying to work.



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