Tuesday, February 01, 2005

Smells Like... 

Visited the second-hand book shop in Margaret River today and came away with The Secret Railway by Elisabeth Beresford (who wrote the Wombles books) for Caelan, The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis for me (I'm reading the first book in the Chronicles of Narnia, The Magician's Nephew, at the moment), and The Last Thing He Wanted by Joan Didion (who is wearing mega-sunglasses in the photo on the inside cover - scary).

Meanwhile, I'm yet to read Rhubarb for the Perth Writers Festival One Book event. One of the main characters is blind (I didn't know this before deciding to read the book) and there'll be blind walking tours of Fremantle over two weekends in February. I'd like to go but I think others will feel my interest is morbid. The event blurb says "Experience Freo as you never have before in this comical wander through Rhubarb's Freo of the senses." Or maybe it's superstition that makes it seem like a bad idea, thinking that the God or Goddess of dodgy vision will assume I don't appreciate the sight I have left. If I have fun without it, maybe I don't need it? Hah, a lot the G/GODV knows then.

Urgh, just to add to what might be seen as a preoccupation with blindness at the minute, I came across a copy of Stephen Kuusisto's Planet of the Blind at Pulp Fiction in Floreat recently. And it'd be a shame to miss seeing Ray just because of wanting to appear stable.

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