A long week of seemingly endless parent-teacher conferences was forgotten with the joy of seeing my son before the Marine ball last night.
I’ve harbored many anxieties about him, yet here he is a Marine Reservist, as well as a barista for Starbucks, in training to be a supervisor. The fact that he didn’t go to college seems less important now as he finds his own way. Not my way. I guess we’re both growing up.
And reading Buddenbrooks is so much fun. I never dreamed I’d feel this much excitement for German Literature Month, now usurping the reading I had planned for my own Japanese Literature Challenge. (There’s always December to pick it up again.)
After the novels by Thomas Mann, I’ll read some Stefan Zweig, and this week Tom of Wuthering Expectations brought up the wonders of Essie Briest. Loved Anna Karenina, loved Madame Bovary, now I’m curious to see what the Germans have to say about a woman involved in an illicit love affair.
Meanwhile, I’m listening to Remembrance of Things Past, specifically The Guermantes Way, as a ‘read-along’ with Arti and Stephanie. They are probably farther along than I, but how lovely it is to hear Proust read aloud to me as I drive to work each morning. The time he takes to illuminate a single moment gives me pause to slow down and remember my own past, as I dwell in the recollections of his.
- A Merry Christmas by Louisa May Alcott
- A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens
- The Night Before Christmas by Nikolai Gogol
- Christmas at Thompson Hall by Anthony Trollope
- The Nutcracker by E. T. A. Hoffman
Such beautiful books for reading and giving.