Posted on by rjonakait

First Sentences

“At the turn of the twentieth century, before Zionist colonization had much appreciable effect on Palestine, new ideas were spreading, modern education and literacy had begun to expand, and the integration of the country’s economy into the global capitalist order was proceeding apace.” Rashid Khalidi, The Hundred Years’ War on Palestine: A History of Settler Colonialism and Resistance, 1917-2017.

“Had Ernst Simmel known he was to be the Axman’s second victim, he would no doubt have downed a few more drinks at The Blue Ship.” Hǻkan Nesser, Borkmann’s Point: An Inspector Van Veeteren Mystery.

“In the early morning hours of Wednesday, November 28, 1917, someone knocked on Khalil al-Sakakini’s front door and brought him great misfortune, indeed almost got him hanged.” Tom Segev, One Palestine Complete: Jews and Arabs Under the British Mandate (translated by Haim Watzman).

“We are the earth, the land.” Honorée Fanonne Jeffers, The Love Songs of W.E.B. Du Bois.

“It was July 29, 2019—the worst day of my life., though I didn’t know that quite yet.” Tim Alberta, The Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory: American Evangelicals in an Age of Extremism.

“Whenever I woke up, night or day, I’d shuffle through the bright marble foyer of my building and go up the block and around the corner where there was a bodega that never closed.” Ottessa Moshfegh, My Year of Rest and Relaxation.

“In 1848 Will and Ellen Craft, an enslaved couple in Georgia, embarked upon a five-thousand-mile journey of self-emancipation across the world.” Ilyon Woo, Master Slave Husband Wife.

“My journal is a private affair, but as I cannot know the time of my coming death, and since I am not disposed, however unfortunately, to the serious consideration of self-termination, I am afraid that others will see these pages.” Percival Everett, Erasure.

“Mark Twain counted pockets among the most useful of inventions.” Hannah Carlson, Pockets: An Intimate History of How We Keep Things Close.

“They were still traveling, into the dark.” Denise Mina, Field of Blood.

“It was a November afternoon in Queens and Jie Zou was looking for a parking spot.” Henry Grabar, Paved Paradise: How Parking Explains the World.

“From then on whenever he heard the song he thought of the death of Munson.” Colson Whitehead, Crook Manifesto.

“A little more than two hundred years ago, Europeans contemplated the Islamic countries of the Middle East from afar and imagined rare silks and spices, harems, and gold—yellow gold, not the underground sea of black gold that modern Westerners associate with the region.” Nina Burleigh, Mirage: Napoleon’s Scientists and the Unveiling of Egypt.

Posted on by rjonakait

Snippets

I placed The Love Songs of W.E.B. Du Bois by Honorée Fanonne Jeffers on the bar. A young man came up next to me to order a beer. He noticed the heft of the book and asked why I was reading it. I said that people I knew and others had recommended it. He asked if he could take a picture of the spine. I consented to the strange request. He looked closer at the novel and said that he did not know the book but had heard of the author. After the briefest debate with myself, I told him that W.E.B. Du Bois had not written it. “Oh,” he said.

She placed a book on the bar as she settled on the stool next to me. She started to read, and I asked what she was reading. She showed me the cover. It was Volume II of a title I did not recognize. She said that it was a Chinese classic. She told me from what dynasty, but I confessed I never knew one Chinese era from another. I let her try to read over the din of the bar’s Trivia Night. Ten minutes later she indicated that she wanted to show me something and held out her right arm. On the inside upper part was a beautiful tattoo of a beautiful woman. She then turned back to the book’s cover and pointed out a figure. “It’s her,” she said. I did not know how to respond. She then leaned closer and almost whispered, “It cost me $500.” I found this unsettlingly intimate. I left a bit later and politely, but not sincerely, said to her, “I hope I see you again.”

Our lunch companions had both been married before. When asked how they had met, the charming Cliff said that they had been neighbors in Scarsdale. He continued that after they married they moved to Greenwich. I said, “Ah, you were run out of Scarsdale.” With his winning smile, Cliff said, “Something like that.” And I thought a twofer. Two commandments broken in one relationship. But this could not have been because they both regularly attended an Episcopal church.

Joan at lunch said that she refused to eat with a Trump supporter. The spouse mentioned that the bubbly Pat at breakfast had told us for no particular reason that she loved Trump. Joan was shocked when she learned that, but we left shortly afterwards so we don’t know how that story continues.

We had lunch with Sam in a Connecticut suburb. He loved going to plays in New York City, taking the train in and catching matinees. He also was a museum goer, and we discussed recent plays and exhibits. He used the subways to get around the city although most of his suburban compatriots were afraid of those trains. He said that after lunch he was driving to a summer house that had been in his wife’s family for 96 years. The house was not hooked up for electricity but had solar power and a generator. Outhouses had been used for most of its history. He said that with his four kids he had been required to dig a new hole every month. Without traffic, he said that it took about an hour to get there. He got in the left lane, he continued, and drove 85 mph all the way. He said that a state trooper had told them that they no longer gave speeding tickets, so he was not concerned. His children, however, want him to take the train and give up driving. He is 97. He said he enjoyed life and wanted to live to 110.