"What's he like? Oh, he's the real English type. Very nice, very, very chic, the real English type, le businessman.... I thought, 'Oh, my God, I know what these people mean when they say the real English type'"--Good Morning, Midnight
I've started reading Jean Rhys' Good Morning, Midnight for John Snow's book club. It's a "stream of consciousness" sort of novel about an Englishwoman down on her luck in 1930s Paris. I was impressed right from the start: she has just the right balanced touch, downbeat but not maudlin, sharply observed but not clinical. On the second page she writes of walking around Mecklenburgh Square in London, which is now the location of Goodenough College, where I spent the best eight months of my life twenty years ago, and will be staying again next month!
Though it wasn't widely read at the time, I couldn't help wondering if it influenced Francoise Sagan's Bonjour Tristesse, at least in the title? And I think Rhys wrote a line I can't find that seems to be a reference to Gertrude Stein's "A rose is a rose is a rose."
Last night I went out to an art class, but it seemed to be cancelled. Oh well, I left my addy for their mailing list. The place had a California Gold Rush address: 1849 Danforth Avenue!(I often remember addresses from the year they correspond to.) I braved the snow to get there, but it was worth getting out of the house anyway.
Today I walked down to the Sobey's near Dupont & Shaw to buy their Friday fish and chips special, as well as their coconut cream pie. Moira was really grateful that I went out in this unseasonal weather. (It's starting to become a routine: I did it last week too, though I forgot the pie.) On the way there I stopped at the ATM and found out I'd got my first ODSP deposit!
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