A Meeting with the Devil

The Exphil Beauvoir Deathmarch is on. 2800-3500 words, a disconcertingly small stack of reference books, pens, post-it flags and my MacBook. And an ice-coffee or two.

Have you ever scourged Amazon's listmania? When I need inspiration I type in the first word I can think of – the name of a writer I enjoy, a phrase, a title –, and look at lists. Some are very insightful, and most all a great place to find new books. "Make tea, sit back and let that essay wait. A rather dark novel, but not uncomfortably so.". Finding a particularly insightful reader is always a treat. Yes, I know I swore off Amazon, but I said nothing about the lists. I just won't buy anything.

Leafing through my Nabokov earlier, I remembered why I want to learn Russian: I want to read their literature, and I do not want it in translation. Apropos, we saw The Brothers Karamazov at Nationaltheatret. The scenography by Simon Pastukh was awe-inspiring: layers of grimy plastic, put to light so that the actors at times stood out as ghosts in the background of a scene; a withered tree. It was dark, disgusting and very fitting. And the costumes! The actors were overall decent, the women did a surprisingly horrid job of it (surprise! I think the problem is that they are scared of taking it too far: when you're drunk and dancing around, do it properly. Really dance, jump, go mad. And, for the love of everything holy, dare to be disgusting.)

I loved the characters, some of the arguments and parties might as well have been transplanted from our family gatherings.

Now I'm going to find some dark classical music I can write to. Let the Deathmarch commence.

A Meeting with the Devil

The Exphil Beauvoir Deathmarch is on. 2800-3500 words, a disconcertingly small stack of reference books, pens, post-it flags and my MacBook. And an ice-coffee or two.

Have you ever scourged Amazon's listmania? When I need inspiration I type in the first word I can think of – the name of a writer I enjoy, a phrase, a title –, and look at lists. Some are very insightful, and most all a great place to find new books. "Make tea, sit back and let that essay wait. A rather dark novel, but not uncomfortably so.". Finding a particularly insightful reader is always a treat. Yes, I know I swore off Amazon, but I said nothing about the lists. I just won't buy anything.

Leafing through my Nabokov earlier, I remembered why I want to learn Russian: I want to read their literature, and I do not want it in translation. Apropos, we saw The Brothers Karamazov at Nationaltheatret. The scenography by Simon Pastukh was awe-inspiring: layers of grimy plastic, put to light so that the actors at times stood out as ghosts in the background of a scene; a withered tree. It was dark, disgusting and very fitting. And the costumes! The actors were overall decent, the women did a surprisingly horrid job of it (surprise! I think the problem is that they are scared of taking it too far: when you're drunk and dancing around, do it properly. Really dance, jump, go mad. And, for the love of everything holy, dare to be disgusting.)

I loved the characters, some of the arguments and parties might as well have been transplanted from our family gatherings.

Now I'm going to find some dark classical music I can write to. Let the Deathmarch commence.