Monday, 30 July 2007

*anticipation*

Arriving home from queuing at the post office all afternoon in order to pay the alarmingly high electricity bill (don't they have direct debit in this country?) I noticed that the wisteria around the entrance to my building has come back into flower. It had a huge great go of things in May, blossom everywhere and a lovely scent assailing you every time you went in or out of the flat. Now it seems to be having a second bash at it, a more low-key affair this time round, a few flower heads here and there, but all the more welcome for the unexpectedness. I thought it would be too hot by now. Meanwhile the plumbago someone has planted in a pot on their windowsill is also in flower. It has always been a favourite of my mother's, though when I was a child I learned to remember the names of both plumbago and wisteria from their similarity to diseases, and some vague half-recalled taint of sickness lingers around the names in my mind.

All thoughts of flowering climbers were, however, immediately banished from my mind as I rounded the corner to where the portiere - the caretaker/ porter, here, not a goalkeeper - hailed me with a Roman bellow of Aaaòòòò signorì which I immediately and correctly took to understand that my parcel has arrived. And what lurks within this jiffy-bag of joy, you ask?

The new Harry Potter book, of course. WOOOOO. Obviously everyone has already finished it (by which I mean family, friends, people who have been carelessly posting right left and centre all over the interweb for the last week). Not expecting - foolishly and incomprehensibly - that the book would be available here in English on its launch date, I ordered it online. And, in a fit of virtue, not from Amazon or someone who would have delivered promptly, but from a local independent bookstore, in an ethically minded fashion. Hence the delay. I have had to be extremely careful to avoid spoilers. I will confess that in an agony of desperation I read the first three chapters standing up in Feltrinelli on Largo Argentina. And then made myself put it down.

What I would like to do is read it slowly and patiently, take my time, luxuriate in it (incidentally, my best ever compliment received from a non-native speaker of english, possibly translated via the power of babelfish: I luxuriated in our time together. Bless.) What is more likely to happen is that I will guzzle it all at a sitting and then wish I hadn't.

Anyway I am going to make a salami sandwich and get a beer out of the fridge and maybe sit on the balcony and start reading. If any fucker posts spoilers in my comments section I will slowly but comprehensively eviscerate them, ok?

5 comments:

Paul de Man said...

In the final chapter Harry is viva'ed by Voldemort, who refers him!!1! It is totally thrilling. Voldemort maintains that Harry's account of the rise of the novel is a crude narrative of secularisation married to a crib of the rise of the public sphere. (BOOM!) In a high, clear voice that strongly implies emasculation where it really counts, Voldemort goes on to give a scathing critique of Harry's reading of Hegel's The Phenomenology of Spirit, which he finds jejune and limited!

At the end all the surviving characters form a chorusline and sing New York, New York. Harry cries and Ginny leaves him for a linguist-structuralist.

ginkers said...

Your safe with me, I don't like Harry Potter but my guess is he does something jolly spiffing, they all cross broomsticks and fly off into the sunset...

Pat said...

i dont understand this harry potter stuff. I know a lot of people who used vacation days from work so they could read it before someone spoiled the end for them.

People not wanting the end of books has always puzzled me, if the writing is strong enough it should be enjoyable whether you know the ending or not, plus the fact that those same people end up reading that book again and again...

anyway im sure Roma fans will be reading the draw more than once to make sure they read it right the first time... an easy run home i guess

Aussie Romanista said...

The little fucker dies!
The End.

Shep said...

We got the book in the shop before lunchtime. My co-worker kept 'accidentally' walking around with an open copy repeating over and over, quietly, "Everyone dies..."

Well...it made me laugh anyway.