Monday, November 29, 2010

endearing misspellings

I don't know how I got home. Bruno must have heard me unlock the door, because a minutes later he came downstairs and knocked. I didn't answer. I was sitting in the dark in the chair by the window. He kept knocking. Finally I heard him go back upstairs. An hour or more passed and then I heard him on the stairs again. He slid a piece of paper under the door.
-excerpt from The History of Love by Nicole Krauss

How sweet is that? These two old men live next to each other, essentially encouraging the other to keep on living even though their both on their last leg. It's pretty adorable.
I cannot get enough of this book.
My indecisiveness is in full force. I'm on my third essay regarding this book, each time tackling my topic from a different angle hoping it clicks the way I want it to. I'm crossing my fingers that this one pans out, but am really enjoying little excerpts like the above. In the spirit of the recent holiday, I'm thankful that The History of Love lends itself nicely to multiple reads and that I'm not tired of ol' Krauss just yet.

Post a Comment