To borrow
Getting back into the groove continues to be an easier-said-than-done sort of thing. Yesterday, I didn’t open my eyes until a little past eight, and getting out of bed for anything more than a run to the bathroom was out of the question. Eventually, I read the paper, but in bed — most irregular. The cold that had been skirmishing at the perimeter seemed to have breached my defenses. I hasten to add that it was hugely depressing just to look out the window. The roan-soaked twilight gave no indication of the hour, and the light seemed to dim as clock ticked toward noon. I was asleep again soon enough.
But by then I’d plucked a book from the pile — Frank Schaeffer’s Crazy for God — and turned on the Nano. With the Nano and the Klipsch RoomGroove, I have rediscovered the pleasures of the good table radio. When I was young, I came into possession of the family’s Grundig Majestic, a radio about the size of a toaster, complete with pushbuttons. That was my music source until, about thirteen or fourteen, I began to build my record collection. By the time I went to boarding school, I had a KLH portable — closed up, it looked like a then very smart Samsonite suitcase — and I’d have denied knowing the Grundig more vigorously than Peter denied Christ. I had embarked on the sea of Hi-Fi, on which even the smallest speakers were expected to make a great big sound. The Klipsch RoomGroove can make a racket, but it is not meant to be played very loud. High volume seems to advertise the shortcomings of MP3 compression. At a sound level that my grandparents would have been happy with, however, the unit sounds very nice. Yes, it is background music; I am not really listening. It would be almost impossible to listen closely, because I know the music as well as I know the feel of the chair that I’m reading in.
Crazy For God has been in a pile for a few weeks, ever since a friend read Jane Smiley’s remarks about it somewhere (The Nation, 15 October) or, more likely, heard about them on NPR. Or perhaps he heard Frank Schaeffer himself. I was told that the book offered an insider’s view of the Himalayas of cash that Christian-Right philanthropists contribute to the cause, and when I put the book down about half an hour ago I was just getting to that. Crazy For God portrays a world that I was unaware of until well into the second Reagan Administration, and it is very strange to read about extremely famous figures of whom I’ve however never heard before. Someone has been on another planet — and I’m pretty sure that I know who put me there. That’s for another time, though. For now, the code in my nose prevents me from saying more than that Mr Schaeffer is a very likeable writer.
To borrow is another day.