Arts Articles and Diaries

Today was a rainy and windy day which I passed in a lazy manner, except for a short shopping excursion to Plus. But I immersed myself in food and arts articles in the Guardian and New York Times and the New Yorker.

There are times when either these articles are unusually rich and interesting, or I am simply in a more appreciative state of mind. I enjoyed reading about The Crack in Tate Modern, the newly-built New York Times Building, three British cookbooks, a biography of Rudolf Nureyev, the Vietnam War novel Tree of Smoke, a new staging of Cymbeline, the New Acropolis Museum in Athens, etc.

Besides, I found two photos that I liked well enough to save onto my computer; one was a photo of colourful balloons rising from the dark brown desert in Mexico as part of the International Hot Air Balloon Festival, and another was a photo of a church on a snowy day in Vancouver, by the Canadian photographer Jeff Wall (whose works are being exhibited at the White Cube in London).

Then I read about the Spice Girls concert in Vancouver. Long gone are the days when they furnished a main topic of conversation among my schoolmates, so it's bizarre but not unpleasing how they've suddenly reemerged.

But I was most taken with Louis Menand's essay-review in the Dec. 10 issue of the New Yorker. He wrote perspicaciously first about diaries in general, then concisely and even more delightfully about the journals of Arthur Schlesinger, Jr. and of Leo Lerman. I've read reviews of Mr. Schlesinger's published diaries elsewhere, but find this the most insightful and enjoyable.

I also enjoyed, after the first pang of wounded vanity had passed, recognizing myself in his summary of the "superego" theory of diarizing:

[T]he superego theory, of course, is the theory that diaries are really written for the eyes of others. They are exercises in self-justification. When we describe the day’s events and our management of them, we have in mind a wise and benevolent reader who will someday see that we played, on the whole, and despite the best efforts of selfish and unworthy colleagues and relations, a creditable game with the hand we were dealt. If we speak frankly about our own missteps and shortcomings, it is only to gain this reader’s trust. We write to appease the father. People abandon their diaries when they realize that the task is hopeless.

But I think that taking theories like this one as an all-encompassing explanation means that one does not do justice to the more pragmatic and concrete reasons for writing diaries -- to organize and analyze the events of the day in one's mind, for instance.

Anyway, to really make this post an exercise in self-justification, I will argue here that today's laziness is partly excusable because yesterday was a busy day; we had eight uncles and aunts and cousins over to celebrate the first Advent Sunday. Playing Christmas carols and eating mandarin oranges, chocolate, and a fine Elsässer Bäckeoffe was exhausting. (c;