Mojo Found

It took some time, but my ability to read, lost in large part for about the past  fourteen months, has returned.  And how.

Just finished Book 3 of the riveting Knausgaard, and a short volume by Tucholsky, in which the heroine, based on his wife Elsa Weil, rhapsodizes; I later discovered that she wound up in Auschwitz, which spoiled my reading of the idyll.  To say the least.

Up next are a couple of modern novels, and of course my own work.

For smaller pieces, I’m assigned by Robb Report to write about Noma’s move to Japan in January for a few weeks; the pleasures of hiking in Switzerland for The Boston Globe; and, the region and cheeses of Glarus for Cheese Connoisseur.

The longer work, now formed into thirty solid and good pages, with another 150 pages that are so amorphous and passionate as to be in strong need of structure, is the focus of a great deal of attention over at least the next six weeks.  Add another unwritten 50-75 pages and you’ve got a book.  About what?  Why, my happy family, of course.

Meanwhile, more pragmatically: Went to Mei Mei yesterday in Brookline.  Wow, that place is extremely good!  Delicious, simple, vegetable driven, Chinese influenced food served up in a delightfully hippy-dippy atmosphere.  A crowd of deaf customers came in and the flurry of sign language actually made it seem as if they were noisy.

 

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