Albatross of Shadow

Yesterday was hardly worth mentioning. I had a wretched night, for unknown reasons, slept late, and led the life of an invalid for the rest of day, coughed non-stop, and was not happy about it. Last night was a lot better. This morning I put on some colorful garb and was able to accompany the Sparrowhawk to the installation Mass for the new pastor. It was something I knew he wanted to see, and I was not averse to it. It was an enthusiastic service with a lot of singing, and the bishop was there, as well as the former pastor. I have a soft spot for the new pastor, because he has the same name as my brother, even though he's not at all like him. With the aid of throat lozenges, I was able to keep the coughing down to a few discreet interludes that were not too disruptive. Afterwards we went downstairs to the church basement for the reception and talked to a surprising number of people. That included a grandfather who was sitting at the other end of our solitary table, eating cake with a cute little boy. I introduced myself and found out that was the new pastor's dad and one of his nephews. Eventually we saw the bishop standing around doing nothing, and went over and introduced ourselves to him. The Sparrowhawk praised his sermon, and the bishop lit up slightly, in his very dry and deadpan way. I thanked him for sending the new pastor over to us, and he said that the parish he came from hadn't been very happy with that decision. I told him he couldn't keep everyone happy with limited resources, and he said that was very good and he was going to have to use that statement later. I used to think the bishop was rather dour, but now I think he is a person of some intelligence who has to deal with an unbelievable amount of aggravation, and thus likes to play his cards close to the chest.

I've started re-reading Laurie Colwin's penultimate novel, "Goodbye Without Leaving." Her books are part of my history, because Queenie and I read them and loved them a long time ago. We used to quote lines to each other on the phone. Laurie Colwin writes in a certain kind of way that had become very mannered by the time she got to this book. There's a lot of telling, not showing, but in such a charming way that you don't really mind being told what to think about everybody. These bite-size infodumps are like canapes. They are interspersed with vivid vignettes and then some adorable metaphors that go down like a smooth cocktail. I admire this delicate technique, but I can't write that way. I'm kind of a wild animal in the way I write, as I am with most things, and I tend to unnerve people, like the Eric Liddell character in "Chariots of Fire," of whom Harold Abrams says, "He runs like a wild animal. He unnerves me." Not that I write anything these days, la la la. . . .

I have to admit, Geraldine Coleshares is one of Colwin's most annoying protagonists, but I have to forgive her because I sympathize with how she feels about a life that always seems to be leaving her behind. We spend our lives wanting things that can never be, and then all of a sudden we get old and die. This is damned unnerving, if you want to talk about things that are unnerving. To quote Laurie Colwin: "'I don't belong anywhere. I'm alone in the middle of the universe.' 'Oh come on, little girl,' he said consolingly, 'we all that.'"