Waiting for Godot comes to Singapore via ABA Productions. It will run from 10 to 13 October. Details in the link. [via ABA Productions]
Our next contact occurred a month later: a two-hour phone call whose pretext was the clarification of certain passages in The Laurels, in effect a chance to start knowing one another. At the end of our conversation I painfully learned how deep I had already been drawn into Marie’s world: she mentioned that her next book was an account of her mother’s life as seen from the moment of her death. This death had not been mentioned in The Laurels. I was incredulous—I had longed to meet Marie’s mother. After we hung up, I immediately fell prey to the worst migraine headache of my life, spending four hours lying on my bed in darkness and pain, from which I finally emerged as soon as I realized I was indulging in “unjustified mourning”—a passion of love and grief for someone I had never even met.
Harry Mathews on Marie Chaix. [via The Paris Review]
I could do with a love story like that in my life.
Man, is it that time of the year again? Apparently, this year’s favourite in the betting market for the Nobel Prize for Literature is Haruki Murakami. (And I do not advocate gambling, children.) [via the Guardian] So it is time to play that game again.
So, in the spirit of playing along (as I tend to do), I will again allow myself five guesses. This year, I’m putting my non-existent money on 残雪, Cormac McCarthy, Nicanor Parra, László Krasznahorkai, and… Javier Marías.
All right, let’s do this.