Reading a Book Over and Over: “Devices and Desires” by P. D. James

“’The victim's hair was damp, which suggests she died after her swim and not before it’"

In “Devices and Desires” by P. D. James

I’m no detective but that is some incredible deduction Dalgliesh…

I'm only going to be on this earth for a limited amount of time, and in all likelihood I won't manage in that time to get through all the great books that have ever been written. But I should at least try my best to. I only re-read books if it's so long since I read them that I barely remember them at all, (and even then it's rare). My bookshelves are heaving with books, and I buy them quicker than I read them, so I've got to try my hardest to keep up. And I certainly can't help thinking that if one is re-reading the same book every year, one could do with broadening our horizons a bit. Nevertheless, re-reading should be adopted by all serious readers. Last year I went through some of my favourite SF books of all-time, and what a joyous ride it’s been. Unfortunately that particular objective kept me away from reading some new stuff coming out. Moreover, to re-read a good book lifts the soul, but to re-read one twice or more puts authors on the dole….lol.

Now that spring is here and summer is just around the corner (the temperature here right now is 29ºC…), it’s time to decide what to read. Why summer? Because summer is the season when some people read books, you smugly. Flat on your back in the hotel bedroom you'll watch dumbfounded as your wife assembles a great leaning tower of books, and leaves you lying there alone. Your friend Saramago will tell you he's casually re-reading “Anna Karenina” - time to hide folks! The most common use of the expression is simply to show off, that you are so clever that you re-read. No-one talks about reading tin labels. But some people who re-read books are not well read at all, because they've only read Shakespeare (it’s me I’m talking about). Another reason someone might re-read a book is because they haven't understood it from the blurb the first time (this is also me I’m talking about). This is criminal. So think twice before not re-reading this summer. As for me, I'll be re-re-[…]-reading "Devices and Desires" again any time soon.

Bottom-line: Knew about P.D. James' work when I borrowed one of her books in The British Council Lisbon's library way back in the late 80s. I got hooked ever since.

Anna Karenina and a Glass of Remy Martin: "Sono" by Haruki Murakami

Published in English in 1989 as "Sleep" (Portuguese Edition published 2013).

Sometimes the idea of ​​wasting time by being asleep goes through my mind. That I could or should be producing something useful (like reading or making stuff); because sleep would be something useless. Reading, watching, writing or doing any other activity at dawn. In some sleepless nights during college, I did it and it seemed to have the power to prolong my life. I sort of thought aloud: "Hey, life is passing, the hands of the clock are cruel: Do not sleep! Or, sleep less and enjoy more."

I believed that this was the thinking of a very few. Reading this Murakami, I once again identified myself with some ideas of the main character. I tried an experiment. I read the first page during the day, and I then stopped and decided to read it again after midnight, thus trying to reproduce the unnamed character’s environment. I felt a mixture of anxiety and peace in the quiet of the morning. In each author's description regarding the activities and night life of the woman who did not sleep for 17 days, the same scene materialized in front of me and I saw her in the living room, holding Anna Karenina and a glass of Remy Martin. Like going out at dawn and feeling the sense of danger and deliverance narrated in the Murakami’s story.

The description of the nightmare, which occurred before the continuous wakefulness, is a striking moment: "Fiquei ali imobilizada, a ouvir a minha própria respiração no seu rumor cavernoso, terrivelmente desagradável, como se eu ocupasse todo o espaço de uma enorme caverna.” (I stood still, listening to my own labored breathing, as if I were stretched out full length on the floor of a huge cavern). The SFional manifested itself in the figure of a black figure in front of her: "Pareceu-me distinguir vagamente no escuro qualquer coisa aos meus pés, uma sombra negra.” (Just then I seemed to catch a glimpse of something at the foot of the bed, something like a vague, black shadow).

The adjectival death from lack of sleep of the (un)happy woman: "Fechei os olhos e experimentei recordar-me de como era ter sono, mas, dentro de mim, existia apenas uma treva vigilante. Uma treva vigilante: isso fazia-me pensar na morte.”(I closed my eyes and tried to recall the sensation of sleeping, but all that existed for me inside was a watchful darkness. A watchful darkness: what it called to mind was death.)

“Se a morte não significasse uma condição de repouso para os comuns mortais, como nós, que sinal de redenção poderíamos esperar nesta vida imperfeita e carregada de tormentos?” (If the state of death was not to be a rest for us, then what was going to redeem this imperfect life of ours, so fraught with exhaustion?). This excerpt sent me to people in a vegetative state or in a coma and to a passage in the Gospel of Matthew, 27: 52-52 (taken from my New King James Bible): "and the graves were opened; and many bodies of the saints who had fallen asleep were raised; and coming out of the graves after His resurrection, they went into the holy city and appeared to many."

Dying is associated with sleep in two other literary works. William Shakespeare, Hamlet in Act III, scene 1, recites the famous monologue:

"To die, to sleep;

To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,

Must give us pause."

Also in chapter XIX of "The Posthumous Memoirs of Bras Cubas" by Machado de Assis it’s said: "Fiquei só; mas a musa do capitão varrera-me do espírito os pensamentos maus: preferi dormir, que é um modo interino de morrer“(I was left alone, but the captain's muse had swept away all evil thoughts from my spirit. I preferred going to sleep, which is an interim way of dying.)

What about her final? It depends on interpretation and imagination of each reader. I know what I thought, but I won’t “verbalize” it here”…

Reading Murakami always puts my cognitive fitness to the test. Murakami’s style depends largely on the ability/ sensitivity of the reader to capture or see any meaning in the story.

NB: Fabulous images by Kat Menschik, whose uncomfortable drawings are more than an apt follow-up to the words of Murakami, as an extra addition to chilling sense of foreboding.