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Januarius in March

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Arizona Writer Charles Bowden (1945-2014)

Typically, the only books I read during the month of January are by authors I have not before encountered. I call this my Januarius project. This last January, however, I was too ill to read more than two books—and that at the end of the month. So I decided to hold this year’s Januarius in March.

During this month, I read fifteen books by authors who were new to me:

  1. Lewis Grassic Gibbon, Sunset Song. This was the first (and most popular) volume of a trilogy entitled A Scots Quair. Hard times on a farm near Aberdeen before World War I.
  2. David R. Fideler, Breakfast with Seneca: A Stoic Guide to the Art of Living. Stoicism is one ancient philosophy applicable to modern times.
  3. Renata Adler, Speedboat. Consisting of seemingly unrelated scenes that manage somehow to hold together and be interesting.
  4. Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar. A somewhat grim book featuring multiple suicide attempts.
  5. Fyodor Sologub, The Petty Demon. A 19th century Russian novel about an annoying school teacher in a country town.
  6. Martial, Epigrams. Amusing sardonic quips about life in Imperial Rome.
  7. Jean-Paul Clébert, Paris Vagabond. Paris seen from the eyes of a highly intelligent hobo.
  8. Edward Said, Orientalism. Intelligent critique of the whole concept of orientalism as being the result of colonialism.
  9. Demetrio Aguilera Malta, Seven Moons and Seven Serpents. Brazilian Magical Realism that allegorizes the whole South American experience.
  10. Jay Parini, Borges and Me: An Encounter. Imagine having to drive Jorge Luis Borges around the Scottish Highlands without ever having read any of his work.
  11. Ralph Waldo Emerson, Self-Reliance. It’s hard to believe that I’ve never before read any Emerson other than a couple of his poems.
  12. Charles Bowden, Desierto: Memories of the Future. The best book I read this month, about life in the Arizona and Sonora desert, the drug lords, mountain lions, and crooked developer/banker Charles Keating Jr.
  13. Andy Miller, The Year of Reading Dangerously: How Fifty Great Books (and Two Not-So-Great Ones) Saved My Life. The title says it all.
  14. Alexander Ostrovsky, The Storm. A 19th century Russian play in which the villain is a mother-in-law.
  15. Gao Yuan, Lure the Tiger Out oi the Mountains: The 36 Strategies of Ancient China. A somewhat lame attempt to show how ancient Chinese philosophy can improve your business acumen.

All in all, it was a good month with some writers I would like to revisit—particularly Charles Bowden. Next week, Martine and I are going to Tucson, Bowden’s home turf, where I plan to read some more of his work.

Not Me

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Daily writing prompt
If you could have something named after you, what would it be?
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I would much rather see something named after someone that matters or has mattered to me. Once I’m gone, I will be past caring for something named after me; but while I’m alive, it would warm my heart to commemorate my love for my mother, father, brother, or Martine.

Death in an Oasis

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The Canon PowerShot A1400

At high noon, as I was preparing to shoot more snapshots of the oasis at the Whitewater Preserve, I stubbed my toe on a rock and fell on my face. My skin bore a few scrapes, and it took my brother and a large bystander to stand me up on my feet; but the lens on my trusty A1400 rangefinder camera was shattered.

I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to retrieve the pictures I had shot that day, but fortunately I had nothing to worry about. Even with a broken lens, I was able to copy the pictures to my hard drive and edit them for possible use in this blog. The following two photos were from my old camera.

The Oasis at Whitewater Preserve

Since Martine and I are scheduled for a trip to Tucson, Arizona the week after next, I wanted to replace the camera quickly. Fortunately, a lightly used A1400 was on sale at Amazon Marketplace. I jumped on it and received it promptly. I would rather deal with old technology at this point than spend great gobs of cash for something that would take at least a month to research.

Me at Whitewater

This picture was shot by my brother using my camera. (You can see his water bottle on the fence to my right.)

Whitewater

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The Whitewater River Near the Campground

On Sunday, my brother Dan suggested we visit the Whitewater Preserve. Now I was familiar with the desolate Whitewater exit off the I-10, all bleached rocky desert. But apparently, head uphill from the exit and one comes upon one of those little green paradises one often finds in desert canyons.

The altitude of the part of the Whitewater Preserve we visited was at 2,223 feet (678 meters). Whereas the floor of the desert was around 90° Fahrenheit (31° Celsius), the temperature at the visitor center was in the mid 70s (around 24° Celsius).

My brother took the above picture from his smartphone. The water is from the Whitewater River, which flows from Mount San Gorgonio and ends up, when not absorbed by the aquifer underlying the Coachella Valley, in the Salton Sea.

The Whitewater Preserve is part of the Sand-to-Snow National Monument, comprising parts of Southern San Bernardino County and Northern Riverside County.

Over the next few days, I will share with you some of the photographs I took there—the very last photographs from my trusty Canon PowerShot A1400 (R.I.P.).

March Madness

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One of Several Games I Watched

Normally, I’m not much of a sports fan—except for the World Cup and the Summer Olympics. Yet, every time I visit my brother in the desert, there is some orgiastic sports contest such as the World Series or March Madness. This time, it was March Madness, in which sixty-four collegiate basketball teams vie for the best in the country.

What was on view during my visit was the second round in which thirty-two teams attempt to become one of the “Sweet Sixteen.” I dunno, maybe “Sweat Sixteen” would be more appropriate.

All the games this last weekend run together in my mind, though I did watch part of the Ole Miss vs. Saint Mary’s game (illustrated above), though I have no memory of any plays made during the game. I do know that, as per usual, there were many personal fouls called and many partially successful attempts to capitalize on them via free throws.

In return for all the second round games I sampled, I will studiously avoid next weekends game. In all probability, I will probably not make any effort to find out which team survived the ordeal.

Desert X 2025

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Sculpture “The Living Pyramid” by Dénes Ágnes

I returned today from a long weekend visiting my brother Dan in the Coachella Valley. Saturday began on a dubious note: We visited an installation of the Desert X 2025 art show at Summerlands in Rancho Mirage. Since the artist was the Hungarian-born Dénes Ágnes, we expected great things, being self-professed Hungarians ourselves.

What we saw was a plywood pyramid painted white, planted with native desert plants, that is on view at Summerlands until May 11, 2025. Ah, well, I guess not all Hungarian art works are great.

I was reminded of Maya pyramids in Yucatán that were not rebuilt by archeologists, such as this pyramid I photographed at Sayil in the Puuc Highlands in January 2020:

Maya Pyramid at Sayil

Another point of comparison is one of English artist Frederick Catherwood’s engravings in the 1841 classic by John Lloyd Stephens, Incidents of Travel in Central America, Chiapas and Yucatán:

The Castillo at Chichén Itzá Engraved by Frederick Catherwood

I guess I’m too much in love with the impressive Maya ruins in Mexico and Central America to accept Dénes’s “The Living Pyramid” with anything other than a shrug. Nice try, but no cigar.

Desert Dreams

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Cacti at the Moorten Cactus Garden in Palm Springs

In the next few weeks, I will be making two road trips to the desert. First, this weekend I will spend a long weekend with my brother in Palm Desert. I don’t know how much I’ll be seeing inasmuch as we are in the middle of March Madness. No matter, because a few weeks later, Martine and I will be driving to Tucson, where we will definitely do some concentrated sightseeing.

I love the desert—but not in the summer! Several years ago, Martine and I flew to New Mexico and drove around in a rental car during the month of June. Every day, the temperature was in the three-digit range, often hitting 110° Fahrenheit (43° Celsius). There were times I was afraid to touch the handle of my rented Hyundai lest I leave behind the skin of my hand.

During the cooler months, however, especially when the wind isn’t blowing too strongly, the desert puts forth its most welcoming aspect. And April is one of the nicest times, as the floor of the desert is full of tiny wildflowers.

I don’t know what I’ll find in the Coachella Valley and Southern Arizona, but I have high hopes. And you can be sure that I’ll have some pictures to share with you.