A BOOK I LOVED: THE DEVILS OF LOUDUN
a cardinal's instruments
One thing I’ve meant to do more frequently as an HTMLGIANT contributor is simply to post about books I love, especially ones that didn’t just come out, especially ones that don’t get flogged constantly here already. I’ve got a mental list, but when there’s no publication date to which a post is tied… well, shit gets away.
But I read something in the past two weeks that absolutely got me by the throat, and I want to write about it: The Devils of Loudun by Aldous Huxley. It came out in 1953 and I’d never heard of it until a few weeks ago. I’ve rarely read a book that gnaws so thoroughly — and simultaneously — at the intellect and the viscera.
5 unlike brain surgeries
14. Huxley on Huxley documentary. Too bad I live in Indiana and have a better chance of seeing a puma running a lemonade stand than seeing this film.
33. When you’re writing a kind of instinct comes into play. What you’re going to write is already out there in the darkness. It’s as if writing were something outside you, in a tangle of tenses: between writing and having written, having written and having to go on writing; between knowing and not knowing what it’s all about; starting from complete meaning, being submerged by it, and ending up meaninglessness. The image of a black block in the middle of the world isn’t far out.
7. Half the people I know I say “Indie” and they say “You mean vampire books?”
112. Anyway, Sabotage talks kill author #8.
The Window of Perception Are The Doors To The Soul Or Something
I sort of want to start a band called Girls Looking At Puppies,
it would sound like Arthur Russell playing in a garbage can.
