Night Blight

“Our fantastic civilization has fallen out of touch with many aspects of nature, and with none more completely than with night. Primitive folk, gathered at a cave mouth round a fire, do not fear night; they fear, rather, the energies and creatures to whom night gives power; we of the age of the machines, having delivered ourselves of nocturnal enemies, now have a dislike of night itself. With lights and ever more lights, we drive the holiness and beauty of night back to the forests and the sea; the little villages, the cross-roads even, will have none of it. Are modern folk, perhaps, afraid of night? Do they fear that vast serenity, the mystery of infinite space, the austerity of stars?” — Henry Beston (1888-1968), The Outermost House, 1933

So Tsu Me

The Japanese word for unread books, particularly books that have been bought but not yet read, is tsundoku (積ん読). This term refers to the phenomenon of acquiring books and letting them pile up unread, rather than reading them. — AI Overview at Google


Elsewhere Other-Accessible…

Tsundoku at Wikipedia

Figure Philia

“I love figures, it gives me an intense satisfaction to deal with them, they’re living things to me, and now that I can handle them all day long I feel myself again.” — the imprisoned accountant Jean Charvin in W. Somerset Maugham’s short-story “A Man with a Conscience” (1939)

Reflet de Robert

[I]t was hard to pierce Robert de Montesquiou’s carapace — and he wouldn’t have wanted you to. He was perhaps at heart a melancholic: he liked to say that his mother had “given me the sad present of life”. His restlessness and furious inquisitiveness might have been a response to this. He was vain without being especially self-reflective, one of those who, rather than look inside to discover who they are, prefer to see themselves in the reflections that come back from others. — Julian Barnes, The Man in the Red Coat (2019), pp. 192-3


Elsewhere Other-Accessible…

Portait of a Peacock — Cornelia Otis Skinner’s essay on Montesquiou
Le Paon dans les Pyrénées — review of Barnes’ The Man in the Red Coat