It's bizarre to think that reading, once a completely solitary experience, is now a shared, communal activity that connects people, places, events, history...
I realise this is a very high minded thought to be having on a Tuesday after a long weekend, but I just finished reading De Niro's Game by Rawi Hage, who read beautifully from it at the Sydney Writers' Festival. It's about the war in Lebanon, which in some form or other continues today (see here, here and here). It is discussed here and reviewed by ordinary punters here.
What the hell did readers do when they finished reading a book in ye olden days before the internet? Just thought about it a bit, I guess.
Here is a slightly less serious happening than the war in Lebanon but it is something I would like to share also through the now communal act of reading:
On Saturday morning my car was stolen from out the front of my house. I felt sad and worried about it. Today (four days later) I got a call from the police - it had been found! Not three blocks from where it went missing.
It was a little smelly and had a cigarette burn in the backseat, but apart from that all fine.
What I can't get over is the following:
1) The thieves had put petrol in the car (it ended up with more petrol than it did when parked out the front of my house on Friday night).
2) The thieves had put P Plates up on the front and back windscreens. And left them there. How very law-abiding of them!
3) They had changed to a FM radio station - a slightlier groovier funkier station than me. Made me feel a little embarrassed. What they must have thought of me.
4) They HADN'T stolen the 'For We Are Young And Free' poster from the back seat. Idiots! Do they know how much that is worth?
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