The #BagLady B Busy this month. So busy in fact that I bagged everything bag. Except for reading books. I definitely got a book or two in this month. Even with two waves of family visits–four from the Tacoma area and another from California.
Family loved, laughed, ate, drank, and were overall merry. Until they left. Then #BagLady was left in a hovel of sparkles, glitter, cuttings on the floor, sheets piled and warmed by exiting sleepy folk, damp towels, crumbs on the counter, empty plates in the sink. But mostly memories of being loved on and loving on. Family. Aw. [Insert deep sigh here]
After, since the thought of editing my latest novel first draft bored in comparison to a camaraderie of intellect exchanged–the laughing, the loving–I instead picked up John Le Carre’s latest A Legacy of Spies. To fill the void of human contact lost and snuggle up with a bunch of other “humans” (albeit from the mind of Le Carre) in his story. What a smart move. I read from cover to seductive cover with irritating breaks having to tend to my blasted husband (apparently he needs to eat!), the blasted dogs, cats, birds, deer, raccoon and otherwise. Blasted, I say. Life interrupts reading. There should be a law…
My eyes scarcely touched the ink of each fluttering page when, all of a sudden, I had finished the book. Today, a day later, I am transformed. Changed. I am Le Carre! Without, of course, a history of spy-dom, an English accent, or a flood of millions and millions of English pounds he rakes in from the millions and millions of books he sells worldwide. He is possibly the finest writer living today. I don’t often say (or write) things like this lest I offend the millions out there like me pencilling away their next great novel. But I did speak it yesterday and write it today. I am transformed.
Should you check out Le Carre’s website, you’ll find only a link for his latest novel not the many books he’s penned. And behind a series of black tape strapped across his form–the webpage designed as cover, while he writes. Behind this mask, you will find an aging ex-spy, pen in hand, notebook on table, face crumpled and kind, as memories of his past sins forever haunt.
And I wonder what writer next will effect me the same way Le Carre has. No matter.
I picked up his The Little Drummer Girl to devour this week after its much-anticipated arrival on our front door. Sad days all when a book goes without reading around this house.
The #BagLady B Busy reading and writing and gleaning brilliance from other writers. #BagLady says, “Read a book!”