Harold Bloom, Genius
With the sinus infection subsiding slowly, I found myself working today with more energy than the past several. While the natural light was available (though the day remained somewhat dim and overcast) I worked on a watercolor next to my windows to the north, enjoying the dynamics of the pigments playing in the daylight. I’m working hard on a fly fishing composition, and finding myself trying a number of techniques I haven’t tried before. It’s coming slowly, but I’m happy with the results so far. I should have it wrapped up by tomorrow or Tuesday.
Once the daylight ended, I cozied in front of the fireplace with Shakespeare, finishing “Hamlet” with a deep-seated sense of satisfaction. Reading Harold Bloom since late summer has led me back to a number of sources I hadn’t consulted for years, though I never ceased to praise the authors (wasn’t it Twain who said a classic is a book that everyone praises but no one reads?), particularly Shakespeare and Cervantes. I believe my reason for feeling such a deep satisfaction from reading Shakespeare stems from the reality that I am slow and clumsy in understanding his lines, but when I linger and unpack the meaning, I always acknowledge that it was worth the effort. There is real power and beauty in his language, and the psychology of his characters leaves me breathless. Hamlet in particular sobered me in tonight’s reading.
Two days into my holiday vacation finds me a much happier man (aside from this wretched sinus condition).
Thanks for reading.