Weather

An eclipse viewing was planned yesterday. True, Vancouver would not experience a total eclipse, only 80 percent, but my friend Frieda from Denman Island had picked up two pairs of solar glasses for me at the Campbell River London Drugs on her way up here last week. The second pair was for H******, who arrived yesterday morning at 9 a.m. The above picture shows that the eclipse viewing was a bust. Still, we spent two pleasant hours on the deck of my house. Much was discussed in the way of literary matters. She had just finished reading The Red Notebook by Antoine Laurain. We both agreed that it is charming, but thin. She is an enthusiast for the writing of Anthony Doerr, whose stories I am also learning to like. We both agreed that what made them interesting was the descriptions of work, of craftsmanship, of expertise. The first story in the volume The Shell Collector concerns just such an individual, who, although blind, traveled the world studying shells. His world was that of "shells conchology, the phylum Mollusca." As Doerr writes, "His fingers, his senses, his mind -- all of him -- obsessed over the geometry of exoskeletons, the sculpture of calcium, the evolutionary rationale for ramps, spines, beads, whorls, folds."

My favorite story in the volume is "The Caretaker," which concerns a man who experiences the horrors of the civil war in Liberia: "Rape, murder, an infant kicked against a wall, a boy with a clutch of dried ears suspended from his neck ..." Through refugee organizations, he is located to Oregon. His laborious attempts to wrench a garden from the earth are described in Doerrian detail. It is captivating. Oh, and he also learns sign language on the way.

As is typical of Sointula, in the afternoon it was blazing sun. I sat on the deck and read.