I love a good book

I've bought this book, The God of Small Things, so many times and given it away just as I start reading it because I end up talking to someone about how good it is, they get excited about it, so I give them my copy. Then I buy a new one and start all over again. I'm only on chapter 8, halfway through the book. I usually give my copy away right about now.

This time, it's the writing style that fascinates me most. The first time I started it, the political side was the intrigue. I had just moved to Egypt, and although I'd lived in developing countries before, in Egypt it was much clearer that the impact of the developed world was devastating. I could relate with that part of the story as I was living it for the first time in my life.

But this time it's really Arundhati Roy's writing style that I love. Her details are meticulous and humorous. They don't read like pages of adjectives before nouns placed to fulfill the requirements of a composition class. Every detail has a meaning--often a hidden and derisive meaning. The plot is developed through the descriptions that often come from the voices of children (who haven't yet been jaded). And, it's spot on. She's a master of "Show me, don't tell me."

When fiction explains reality better than non-fiction ever could, that to me is excellence. And when it still grabs your attention at 3 in the morning after you've been teaching Russian students to speak English all online and don't want to read another word in any language, that is just plain awesome.

Mendoza

As if having all that great wine wasn't enough, look at those mountains!

Music--Live Music

I went to see Diego el Cigala at the Gran Rex a few weeks ago. Bebo y Cigala's Lagrimas Negras is one of my favorite CDs. The combination of gypsy flamenco with Cuban rhythms seems so well suited.

Listening to music that moves me in my home (where I can dance around and drink a glass of wine) is one of my favorite pastimes. A live concert of that same music can sometimes be a real letdown. Not this one.

Diego el Cigala's passion was totally contagious and even though I couldn't get up and dance, we were in a theater after all, the vibrations of the music hit deep. I could feel the rhythms, not just hear them. When he began singing, the energy was intense.

He came back for at least 4 encores, ending the show with an improvisation that took me back to Sevilla. I once saw a group of teenagers along the Guadalquivir dancing, singing and playing the cajon as they passed around a bottle of booze. How I longed to be a Spanish teenager growing up in Andalusia.