Yesterday was a damp, dark, dreadful day. I sat in my big chair and read Swift.
Gulliver Book II is rather charming- a Georgian idyll. It's as if Swift had forgotten he was supposed to be blasting humanity and had allowed himself to fall in love with these people- the king and Glumdalclitch in particular. Brobdignag is a nice place and almost everybody- in spite of the skin problems- is nice too. It would have been much better for Gulliver if he'd stayed.
I'm also reading Murakami's After the Quake- a set of stories, dealing- obliquely- with the Kobe earthquake of 2000. The people in them are living on the very edge of the void- as we all are, all the time- only mostly we prefer not to notice.
Google this morning features a weird graphic involving a grinning goon in a wooly hat, a couple of manic kids and a bunch of heart-shaped balloons. In the background there are explosions. On one side of the goon is a melting cross, on the other a bleeding heart. Happy New Year- or the end of civilisation as we know it?