There are a few perpetual question, of how to organise the world in your head, of form and content. Of books which you wish to but never really completely read. Books that you dip in often, often anywhere and are lifted above the world for a bit and get to see reality from a fresh perspective. Any books would generally do that, but some are meant to be around you forever; if you have physical space, as part of a library. The idea of this blog is to share such dipping pleasures, books that open and yield wherever you find them.
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I found this book around twenty years ago, and I begin with this one, because this seems to have the most post-its, underlines. (My views on underlining in books keep changing, now generally little dots or better to highlight on soft copies).
One of the things about Borges is he is first a reader, and then a writer. His writing reflects that. He has a simplicity of approach to things which are otherwise large and complex. Simplicity, economy, the two words that come to mind. Read any of the capsule biographies he presents, like a poet handling words with high economy, he conveys world-views in less than a page. Or his dealing with things of time and mysteries of existence. He somehow leads you by the hand and takes you to the depths of infinity very simply. And because these essays are not long, somehow, one reads them like poetry, in slow time, in rich time, and comes out enriched for the experience.
I realise I might say this for many other books that I'm thinking of adding here. Perhaps that's what makes them worthy of liftime dipping pleasures. But in the case of Borges, him being a poet has something to do with his relationship with language, meaning and words, and there's the spirit of sharing, given his reading, a spirit of sharing what he has found on these reading journeys, but in the most simple, most economical ways.
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Today, I open it somewhere and land at Film reviews and criticism. (June 12).
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