Johanna Drucker Reviews A Quiet Passion - Johanna Drucker is not a fan of the Terence Davies’s new Emily Dickinson biopic. In this her Los Angeles Review of Books review, she compares A Quiet Passi...
Monday, June 28, 2010
Sunday, June 20, 2010
15 June 2010
We're walking around the yard after dark. A pink glow backlights the silhouettes of trees to the west, a sliver of moon begins to set as the evening star rises, and bats flit through the air.
The peepers are still singing; the wind, which raged all day, tossing stinging salt spray across the yard, has settled; a flower of some sort opens and vibrant perfume fills the air. We walk along the water's edge; our feet are in darkness but the sea still glows softly silver. "This time of year," Marike says, "the light seeks surfaces where it can linger."
It's as if, just like us, it's not ready to slumber yet, but clings, wakeful, to every last minute it can turn to day.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
I fall asleep.
I am driving along a winding country road.
I can't quite see clearly, and so I drive still faster.
Suddenly the fear of death grips me, a thrill or rumble in my belly, and Bathsheba, who has been snoozing on the couch with me, jumps up to bark at a phantom.
No one is at the door.
Rain rattles against the windows.
I am awake again.