In WAYR?, I note what I’m reading and comment...you note what you are reading and comment. Occasionally, I may add a section or a link related to books…
I am reading:
The City We Became by N.K. Jemisin- I’m not quite sure what the tentacle things are but I know one thing. Granted that having amnesia must be an awful thing, I do kinda sorta wish that I had forgotten nearly everything about myself save for odd factoids here and there before the time I lived in NYC, like Jemisin’s protagonist does...although you do carry you everywhere you go. I’m going along with the ride and enjoying this, even though I’m still quite clueless about what’s going on.
All those rural people who hate cities are afraid of something legit; cities are really different. They weight on the world, a tear in the fabric of reality like...black holes, maybe...As more and more people come in and deposit their strangeness and leave and get replaced by others, the tear widens. Eventually it gets so deep that it forms a pocket, connected by only the thinnest thread of...something to...something. Whatever cities are made of.
In the city that never sleeps, FDR is the highway that never stops, except for an occasional accident and traffic jams.
Patricia Highsmith: Her Diaries and Notebooks 1941-1955 by Patricia Highsmith and Anna von Planta- Still in 1943. Highsmith has steady work, steady money, and an always steady stream of girlfriends...at least for this year.
October 27, 1943
Happy day, but still very tired. Must run an experiment 1) to get enough sleep 2) to find enough inner peace to dream 3) to write a book 4) to see the world as it is for the first time. Does that sound simple? ridiculous? childish? The greatest artists are always childish. I will start the experiment immediately.
End of a Berlin Diary : 1944-1947 by William L. Shirer
Danse Macabre by Stephen King