December 21, 2010

Posted in Uncategorized at 12:26 am by Iain

The sun hangs much lower in the skies of Minnesota. It also snows about a month earlier, and about three feet heavier, than I’m used to.

Very few of the people here seem to be any more in touch with winter than any of the people I knew in Iowa. Like Iowa, the majority of people here only appreciate winter when it’s performing the red-and-white part of “The Holidays.” Once December passes, winter becomes this monstrous demonic entity, devouring January and February whole, gnawing on the choicest parts of March, and only leaving the absolute dregs of April for us to enjoy. You would think that living in Minnesota would tincture its inhabitants’ opinions with a bit more latitudinal understanding toward the feelings of oft misunderstood old man winter.  You would be wrong.

I’m living with a roommate right now, but because our schedules are so contrary most of the time it feels like I’m living by myself. This is both good and bad. Good in the respect that this has given me an absurd amount of time to vomit my prodigious wanderlust all along the trails of outer Minneapolis. Bad in the respect that, as in the opening chapter of Great House, I have started, “preferring the deliberate meaningfulness of fiction to unaccounted-for reality, preferring a shapeless freedom to the robust work of yoking my thoughts to the logic and flow of another’s.”

Ali thinks that I’ve become a recluse. I’m confident that this is part of a process. A process that I haven’t quite figured out yet, but a process all the same. I suppose that Ali feels the same way, just that the process is me becoming a recluse. She’s probably right but…nah.

Even if I might be a recluse, it’s nice to be able to read again. I’ve read 10 books since the beginning of November and none of them have been histories. Mostly recent fiction, although two were nonfiction memoirs. After reading all of these amazing books, it makes me sad that my first real introduction to modern literature was Dave Eggers.

My favorite authors so far:

Kiran Desai,  Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Junot Diaz, Chris Klaus.

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