Jack T. Tumult’s Reading List [while finishing the last quarter of the novel]:
Note: The list is not to be taken in any sort of order. The books are to be read at will, if will permits. Those that are found to be excruciatingly dull, didactic, or wonderful must be put down at once and picked up again only once decent Turkish coffee is procured.
- Bergerac’s Les États et Empires du Soleil (The States and Empires of the Sun)
- Camus’s Le Premier home (The First Man)
- And the Hippos Were Boiled in Their Tanks by Burroughs and Kerouac
- Consider rereading: The Master and Margarita (Bulgakov), The Love of the Last Tycoon (Fitzgerald).
Addendum: It would be wise because of the similar basis of my novel and Mishka’s aforementioned novel to reread Lermontov’s “Demon” for further encouragement; also, due to the latter’s unfinished form, another befitting read might be Dickens’s The Mystery of Edwin Drood.
- No Dunces. Nothing Neon (though it was good – proving that one might be better at sixteen: simpler, more sincere and honest), except maybe an Arcade Fire record.
- Maybe Twain’s The Mysterious Stranger while eating soup. But definitely go by Shakespeare & Co. on 23rd and finally pick up a copy of The Pale King by DFW. Can’t believe you still haven’t got to it. Been dead a while now, but the IRS is hard to get excited about.
- Skip Armageddon in Retrospect for the travails of Fedor Protasov when you want a chuckle. Or when you’re feeling unsure, or overtly clever. Try to skip the clever bits as often as possible.
- Don’t forget that you’d rather be ashes than dust. No one can argue that point.
In my dreams she was in a constant state of undress like the repetition of a visual mantra. Then she turns into the ocean her consistence and demise drowned in, and I see some poetry again. Some ghettoized balladry. I am overwhelmed.
In my dreams I am in Poe’s lighthouse, looking for her, alabaster from the water.