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September 2017

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I had a dream last night that L. was feeding baby wolves and I thought it was a bad idea. Very early this morning I skimmed an illustrated post about lycanthropy.

A little bit later, though still far too early, my creative co-worker gave me a ride to my 8:30 am class (heated seats!) (in the car, not the classroom). She told me about the resort where her son works in the summer, which resort shares its remote island with a family of wolves.

She said the island was once a station for something I had never heard of called LORAN. LORAN was a hyperbolic radio navigation system (so the Internet tells me) implemented during WWII and continued in a confusing series of forms (well, A, B and C) [Edit: I had the date wrong here] Loran-A went off the air in North America in 1980, but apparently Loran-C was in use until 2010.

This island station was paired with one in southern Alaska. It was stood down1 in 1977 “after a fire in a generator room,” according to the labour-of-love website on which I found this information.

But what if it was really the wolves?

I sense a rabbit hole gently caving in under my feet.

Talk of mysteriously defunct signal stations reminds me a little of the CBC holiday tradition of playing Fireside Al's gripping rendering of "The Shepherd" on Christmas Eve, in the Dickensian tradition of eerie Christmas stories.


1. That usage seems awkward, but that's how the site puts it.
This eternal virus1 and the world virus of authoritarianism have made me irritable. In this state (and next door to that one) it's difficult to focus and it's difficult to like things and people.

What better time to review some books?

During my illness, I made very few ventures out, but one was to Sorenson's Books, recently and beautifully rehoused with fellow bookseller Chronicles of Crime in a wonderfully arcane warren more like a dream of seeking than a retail space.

I went to hunt up a copy of Georgette Heyer’s Venetia because they were reading it on Backlisted. I ought to have been looking for Howards End, because that is the next book for book club, but in my fog I could hold only one book in mind at a time. They did not have Venetia. I eventually found it as an abridged audiobook through my local library’s Hoopla subscription, which met my needs perfectly well.

The book I walked out of Sorenson’s with was Loving * Living * Party Going, a Picador omnibus of three of Henry Green’s novels. I was somehow under the impression that they were a series, but Green it seems just loved a gerund.

I’ve been hearing about Green as an under-rated novelist for a good long time, maybe most recently in The New Yorker. He was in my headfiles under to be read (sometime), and this seemed to be bookstore serendipity's signal that it was time.

Henry Green’s Loving )

Mad Shepherds and Other Studies by L.P. Jacks )



1. Which is to say, this cold I’ve had since Dec 22
2. The wealthy family are named the Tennants. Get it?
3. L.P. stands for "Lawrence Pearsall".


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