Resucitada

Mer se pregunta qué estoy leyendo:


Y en la página 161 hay sólo siete líneas ya que ahí termina una "parte" del libro, y la siguiente empieza en la 162. Pero les escribo las últimas cuatro líneas que son autosuficientes:

"Sammy, is this a trick?" he whispered. "Or are we serious?"
Sammy thought it over. The elevator chimed. The operator threw open the door.
"You tell me," Sammy said.

Voy por la página 135 y son >600, así que mucho no puedo decir. Empezó medio lento para mi gusto, pero los últimos capítulos levantaron mucho. Mi novio me venía hinchando hace meses que debía leer este libro. Y hace poco escuché una entrevista a la esposa del autor, que también incursiona en la literatura, y me pareció una genia, y quiero leer su libro, pero mientras tenía acá el de su marido así que...

Yo quiero saber qué esta leyendo Romi.

To my fellow writers...

THE COST OF HYPHENS

The pain which attends all literary composition is increased, in some cases, by the writer's knowing how much per word he will receive for his effort. We came upon a writer at his work recently, and were allowed to sit quietly by while he finished his stint. Quite casually he mentioned that he was getting fifty cents a word. A moment or two later his face became contorted with signs of an internal distress. With his hands poised above the machine, he seemed to be fighting something out with himself. Finally he turned to us. "Listen," he said, grimly, "do you hyphenate 'willy-nilly'?" We nodded, and saw him wince as he inserted the little mark, at a cost of half a dollar.

(De EB White, "Writings from the New Yorker 1927-1976")

Hüzün

"Tristesse is not a pain that affects a solitary individual; hüzün and tristesse both suggest a communal feeling, an atmosphere and a culture shared by millions. But the words and the feelings they describe are not identical, and if we are to pinpoint the difference it is not enough to say that Istanbul is much richer than Delhi or Sao Paolo. (If you go to the poor neighborhoods, the cities and the forms poverty takes are in fact too similar.) The difference lies in the fact that in Istanbul the remains of a glorious past civilization are everywhere visible. No matter how ill-kept, no matter how neglected or hemmed in they are by concrete monstrosities, the great mosques and other monuments of the city, as well as the lesser detritus of empire in every side street and corner -the little arches, fountains, and neighborhood mosques-inflict heartache on all who live among them."

Orhan Pamuk; Istanbul, Memories and the City.