The Travails of Moving

"I'd like to reconfirm my reservation for travel. Yes, I made a reservation two weeks ago. No, I am not travelling six months from now, I am travelling next week. No, I would not like the halaal meal, I would like the vegetarian meal. No, they are not the same thing." And may I mention in passing that you are not the first person to wittily drawl that it surrrre must have taken me a looong time to learn to spell that 15-letter-long last name when I was in kindergarten.

Heartache, heartache and more heartache as I try to thin out my oh-so-precious collection of books and decide which ones I can bear to get rid of.

A flood of tears as I deposit my priceless collection of Wodehouses, painstakingly collected over the last fourteen years, into a flimsy and frayed USPS sack and send them off into the unknown, to be delivered to darkest Africa eight weeks hence.

Yes, I still have my car for sale. And no, I cannot trade it in for a used laptop and $200. Or for $800 and a free ride to the rental car store. Nor can I accept a money order three times the value of the car and wire the balance back to the sender. Not even if God blesses me if I do. Oh, and if you do not have a drivers' license, you CAN NOT drive my car over to your mechanic, desi-desi bhai-bhai notwithstanding!

Packing, packing, endless packing. Is that all a suitcase can hold? WHY do I own so many clothes?

Even though you are a poor Asian post-doctoral student, I am an even poorer Asian ex-doctoral student. For this reason, I cannot sell you my fairly-new printer for $30 and throw in the microwave for free. I also will not do home deliveries on the assorted goods that I am giving away.

The woeful sight of watching the first car I owned being driven away for good. The very small compensation of flying down the interstate in a dazzling rental car that I could not afford to own.

And finally, the forlorn emptiness of vast tracts of carpet in a bare apartment, with the few, scattered remnants of my year here lying strewn across the floor.

C-13, Village South, I'll miss you.

How many have you read?

For all of you who have been waiting with bated breath, as I have, the list is finally out!

The eleven writers selected for this year's Man Booker Prize longlist are (the names with the * have won or been nominated for the prize before):

The Harmony Silk Factory by Tash Aw
The Sea by John Banville *
Arthur & George by Julian Barnes *
A Long Long Way by Sebastian Barry
Slow Man by JM Coetzee *
In the Fold by Rachel Cusk
Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro *
All For Love by Dan Jacobson
A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian by Marina Lewycka
Beyond Black by Hilary Mantel
Saturday by Ian McEwan *
The People's Act of Love by James Meek
Shalimar The Clown by Salman Rushdie *
The Accidental by Ali Smith *
On Beauty by Zadie Smith
This Thing Of Darkness by Harry Thompson
This Is The Country by William Wall

Some surprising exclusions, in my opinion, are Shantaram and Magic Seeds. Well, maybe not Magic Seeds, so much, since its author has declared on numerous occasions that the novel, as a literary form, is dead.

Do you have any predictions about the outcome? Care to stake some money on it? Ladbrokes has picked Julian Barnes as a favourite, and William Hill has its money on Ian McEwan. So do I. I haven't read Saturday yet, but I read an excerpt a few months ago, and I loved it.

The Guardian has this to say about this year's selection.

Angst

What you said: "....I'm sorry"

What I said: "...I'll live"

What you said: "You'll probably need me right now, right? So I'll come"

What I said: "Come if you want. If not, don't worry about it. I'll manage"

What I should have said: "I need you so much right now. Please, please come and tell me that things will be okay"

What you should have said: "I want to be there with you right now and that is why I am coming. I am coming because I love you. You will be alright. Everything will be alright"

Bridget Jones on Dumbledore

Or rather, Hermione on Dumbledore. I thought this was amusing because I am one of those obnoxious members of the many-headed who are disparaging of all popular fiction, including the HP saga and Bridget Jones, even though I secretly enjoy reading both.

Dumbledore's death in the style of Helen Fielding

Hermione Granger's Diary
16th July 2005

Spells cast: 33 (bad, but v. extenuating circumstances)

Number of deaths: 1 (v.g. except note v. v. key character)

Portents of doom: 12,204 (& counting) (v.g. all things considered)

V. bad day. Dumbledore keeled over right in middle of Gryffindor turkeygriff buffet. Everyone being v. British, milling about discussing Hagrid's chrysanthemums, until Neville came out with what all were thinking: Old Dumbo had "kicked bucket".

Draco Malfoy wandered over, all sympathy. Rather outrageously tried to chat up yours truly over corpse of dearly departed mentor. Note to self: must not be attracted to charming, rakish but doubtless somewhat evil Slytherin types, especially DM. Been there, done that, got commemorative broomstick.

Harry looked v. v. distressed re Old D. Is v. unlucky w/ father figures (e.g. see previous diary entry Summer 2003 re Sirius Black, previous diary entry near beginning somewhere re fate of HP's actual father, etc etc). DM noted HP is magnet for sudden tragic deaths. HP v. angry, threatened to knock DM's pureblood block off, etc etc. Had to cast multitude of restraint spells on HP to prevent HP throwing DM in lake. Sometimes HP v. v. infuriating!

DM v. good about whole thing, suggested dinner at little coven by coast. Took deep breath & was v. empowered & questioned appropriateness of dinner invitation with grandfatherly wizard headmaster still lying amongst buffet, barely as cold as turkeygriff slices. DM referred to longstanding ability to cheer up grieving witches such as self especially when witch as damned bewitching as self is. Almost persuaded but took v. deep breath & declined & told DM busy this evening washing cape.

Note to self: must remember DM is Slytherin scoundrel! V. v. important not to fall for charms of servants of evil (remember New Year's resolutions!)

Also: must select appropriate length skirt for Dumbo's funeral. Wonder if DM will be there?

Courtesy: Linda Whittle , http://books.guardian.co.uk/harrypotter/story/0,10761,1527766,00.html

Insomnia

I have been wide awake since 2:18 this morning, after dozing off at 10 last night, and the world feels out of kilter for the following reasons:

1) My air conditioner is on the fritz and intermittently bursts into muffled roars and then subsides into ominous silences. It has been doing this all night. It looks sullen and brooding, and I fear that it may burst into a ball of flames at any moment now.

2) The aforesaid air conditioner has also developed a leak. It drips, audibly. This is not good for my fevered imagination that has been incited to flights of fancy by my recent glut of Agatha Christies. Lying wakeful, I can visualize a body lying in my living room, stabbed in the back with an Oriental dagger, blood dripping onto the carpet. Drip drip drip. Damn the air-conditioner!

3) I had my first microwave fire earlier this evening, as I absentmindedly microwaved something without remoiving its foil covering! I am convinced that senile dementia is setting in early. Give me a month or two, and I'm sure I'll be forced to wear my name and address on a placard round my neck, so that some kindly soul can direct me homewards when I am found alone and palely loitering on a city street at 3 am.