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I'd read his "Arabian Sands", and, for want of anything better, picked this up to read. Interesting, a fine documentation of a way of life I suspect by now to be entirely extinct.
This, the Arabs that live in the Salt Marshes at the Mouth of the Euphrates - and his years amongst them. This - written in the early to late 50's, and he's seeing the changes that are already happening - his disparaging views of the Oil Industry, which (as he prophesized) entirely ruined their way of life. Which - to a casual reader - might not seem like such a big deal, they were pretty primitive - but we all lose with the dearth of diversity.
Of note, he mentions a legendary village in the Salt Marshes - Hufaidh - that is hidden by Djinn and addles the speech of any who come across it. He talks of the Arabs belief that there is hidden treasure, (not unsurprising, given the 5000+ years of occupation), a bit of the history of the area, of being a doctor to everyone he meets (he's a limited knowledge of medicine, and a chest filled with cures) - and he tells of him being recruited to perform circumcisions, and, as a result of his superior techniques and after-care ends up doing some days more than 100 - and - amongst the uncircumcised the "...was circumcised by an angel at birth" - to avoid the unwanted infections & mutilations, he tells of the blood feuds, and his bringing an air rifle - which is popular to shoot birds, and his observation: "You can usually get on terms with people by helping them to kill something". And there's mention of the people of the South Marshes, the Sabaeans - neither Muslim, Christian or Jew, something quite other entirely. Which, if true makes them something of an anachronism, as Wiki refers to the cult as dying out by 275 AD.
Anyways, a diversion in line with much of my current reading. Good.
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Link: Wiki on Vasily Aksyonov
In translation, by Michael Glenny, written 1969-1975, about an intertwined group of "intellectuals" in Russia. Absolutely brilliant - although perhaps a little overly long for my attention span, the 500+ pages written in stream of consciousness, meandering between characters, points of view, drunken, jazz, the mish-mash of Russian names, patronymic's, nick-names, make it nigh-on impossible to follow.
Reminding me - a bit of Thomas Pynchon in it's lucidity and breadth, of Master and Margarita in set and setting, it's an immensely personal narrative set against the background of Russia, 40's, 50's, 60's, 70's, against Soviet Era Communism, the same now, the same worldwide, not immediately the same, not the same cultural/socio/political influences, but - while under a different star, they are the same. Conform to a government of fools, to a system inherently corrupt and rigged, fly low and make no waves.
In thoughts I found him sympathetic, we're on the same page, of the same cloth, only perhaps he's better. Inspiring, probably not what I needed to be reading right now - but, enjoyable, very, very talented, a masterpiece.
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Reading Vasily Aksyonov's "The Burn" - which places it's comic heroes in a dystopian society (early 70's Russia), - a relentless drunken stream-of-consciousness tirade that pits the narrator - and his American friend "Patrick Thunderjet" - against the State, the World, and recalls me to reread "The Master and Margarita".
I will come back to "The Burn" in another review, I promise.
Now this is a book that I actively proselytize, along with "Confederacy of Dunces", "Lolita", and "The Discovery of New Spain", Herodotus, a few dozen others, that I place joyfully in another's hands to have them read and discuss, only to discover the book again not a day later in a thrift shop or curbside library.
So goes literacy.
In any event, while looking for it online I came across this translation:
Online Translation: https://www.weblitera.com/book/?id=205&lng=1
Which I took a few hours to reread. I'm not certain this is a translation by either Mira Ginsberg or Michael Glenny, but - aside from typos, this was not so bad. And yet again I found myself - after the Ball - both laughing and crying on the same page, the circumstance, characters, the details - forgotten, or perhaps never in the editions I recalled.
Anyways, a joy once again.
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n. a wistful omen of the first sign of autumn—a subtle coolness in the shadows, a rustling of dead leaves abandoned on the sidewalk, or a long skein of geese sweeping over your head like the second hand of a clock.
n. a friendship that can lie dormant for years only to pick right back up instantly, as if no time had passed since you last saw each other.
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Another first person anthropology, basically confirming everything I read in Bruhl-Levy. Not a bad read, short, more noteworthy for the author than the book, though.