What species of vectitation
Sat Dec 23, 2006
I ambled through the woods adjoining the Cypress Creekway, woods full of tame does and pileated woodpeckers, woods crossed with impacted trails and pocked with the aluminum remains of impromptu campfires, and saw, near the creekbed, a red brazen jeep, its driver behatted (pileated peckerwood?) and unwary. No one went with Fergus then, as I far as I could see.
Am finally reading here, in the public library, Malcolm Gladwell’s Blink. Clancy and I toured the Rosenbaum house, apparently the purest example of Frank Lloyd Wright’s Usonian mode, here a few days ago, and I was delighted to see Professor Rosenbaum’s copy of My Secret Life prominently displayed in the built-in shelving. I’m not sure what Wright was thinking with the flat roofs, exactly. Perhaps he anticipated a return to the trees before leaking would be a serious problem. The cantilevers are especially refreshing in a town filled with gaudy ornamental columns. But I never finished telling you about the Blink: why is that Gladwell’s book is here, and that works like Timothy Wilson’s Strangers to Ourselves: Discovering the Adaptative Unconscious are not? Doesn’t this represent a fundamental failure in the library selection system?
But I’ve returned to Against the Day now. Luc Sante’s recent review is probably the best one I’ve read yet. I found the rhetoric of Sante’s mention of wikipedia interesting in that piece; I wonder if it’s the first time that such a reference has crept into the Review.