Winter II. Ways of seeing + Peete's

Intro & Preface & Contents

Previous: Winter I. In praise of living flame

I came home this afternoon just at twilight, and, feeling tired after my walk, a little cold too, I first crouched before the fire, then let myself drop lazily upon the hearthrug. I had a book in my hand, and began to read it by the firelight. Rising in a few minutes, I found the open page still legible by the pale glimmer of day. This sudden change of illumination had an odd effect upon me; it was so unexpected, for I had forgotten that dark had not yet fallen. And I saw in the queer little experience as intellectual symbol. The book was verse. Might not the warm rays from the fire exhibit the page as it appears to an imaginative and kindred mind, whilst that cold, dull light from the window showed it as it is beheld by eyes to which poetry has but a poor, literal meaning, or none at all?

Alpha.

Perhaps I need to start reading poetry by fire light. I’m afraid Ryecroft would be appalled by my lamps, which are all compact fluorescents or LEDs. I doubt he would find the efficiency much of a compensation for the lack of charm. Seeing “in a different light” is something of a cliche, but of course there is also truth to it. Some people will never see what we see in an adored literary work, and there may have been a time when we didn’t see it either. I’ve given up recommending Proust’s Lost Time to people because I feel duty bound to reveal that the first reading can be a struggle, while the subsequent readings are much more fun and also more revealing. I’m surprised anyone reads Proust any more. Seven volumes with very little plot to speak of. Oh, there is plot, but nothing I care all that much about after the first time through. And after the first reading you notice that he tends to spoil what plot there is by informing you, when he first introduces a character, what will happen with them. At least the characters are wonderful... or perhaps "vivid" would be the better term. What I love is the things you notice for the first time only after your third reading, decades after you first learned of “Marcel” and these almost unimaginable people. You suddenly realize that you are able to read in a different light... with new eyes. Presumably it was there all along, but you just couldn’t see it before. The mechanism of this is a mystery still. To some extent, your latest reading is “informed” by your previous readings. But it is more than that. The insights of the second reading are the easiest to explain, as you bring to the earlier episodes with these people, the memory of what is to come. When you first meet Gilbert and the Baron, while walking Swann’s Way, you know so much more than your narrator, (or, I should say, you know more than does the young character “Marcel.” How much the narrator/author knows at this point, is another question altogether). Later readings will, most likely, find you yourself considerably older, and so you bring to what you’ve learned within the book, any maturing in yourself as person and reader. You might find yourself less or more quick to judge the many human failings presented. In my latest reading, I saw the whole as more of a collection of essays hung on a bare skeleton of a plot. Marcel’s love life interests me very little, but his observations on music and art and the street vendors outside the windows of his family’s residence near Versailles, are treasures.

Peete’s.

I tend to avoid the big chain coffee places, but when there is no other option, I go to Peete’s. Not because their tea is better (though it is). And not because their WiFi is superior (it isn't), but because I love their design style. Most of their locations feature oak trim and counters and tables of a lovely dark grey granite. I sometimes walk out of my way to one of these locations just to enjoy the look and texture of these natural materials.

I own a very old piece of oak furniture that I’ve considered refinishing -- it has the rather dark lacquer finish that was popular in the late 19th century. But the task would be daunting because of the way the wood is shaped and carved. Much easier to walk to Peete’s on occasion.

I don’t like thinking about how much oak has gone into all their stores. And the thought that, eventually, they will redecorate and it will all be ripped out and sent to the landfill makes me sad. But, I do like the look of it. Their chairs, on the other hand, are surprisingly ugly, but I guess you can’t have everything.

Next: Winter III. Personal charity.