Wrote a scholar from the island that they kept from me
Having access this evening to a tableful of newspapers, I saw the front-page article in the Globe about the climatically imminent flooding of the Seaport and it was pretty much exactly like reading that water is wet. I still have difficulty regarding that neighborhood as a real part of Boston, not merely because of its glass-shelled gentrification but because it is even more obviously on loan from the sea than the rest of this flat gravel-fill town. As soon as there was sea-rise in the future, Boston was going to be under it, long before the governments and corporations of this world blew through the 1.5C deadline. I love the harborwalk and I have seen the harbor walking over it. Urban renewal was faster cash in the moment than streets that would not flood the next minute. I do not believe in the stupidest timeline because I was exposed too early to the folktale in which it could always be worse, but it is nonsensical and nightmarish to me that this is the one we are all trapped in. It is because the universe is an unjust place that so many in power are not found in the morning blue-lipped, salt-lunged, sea-strangled on land.
On the other hand, tonight I watched Hestia trot over to
spatch's new computer on which was still stuck the silver-paper bow of its early holiday present and pluck it in passing, after which she hunted it up and down the front hall with much batting and biting and singing the high, clear song to her prey which is usually reserved for socks. Decades after bouncing off all the George Eliot I tried after Silas Marner (1861), I seem to be embedded in Middlemarch (1872). It washed out my plans for the day which I then did little with, but I slept a generally assessed normal number of hours.
On the other hand, tonight I watched Hestia trot over to

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Last night Mac ignored a fragment of meatball in favor of the tomato sauce. Now in addition to his Perma-Gravy stain he is a little orangey-red on the chin. I hope you rejoice in your real cat.
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I hope Middlemarch is fun.
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TRUTH.
after which she hunted it up and down the front hall with much batting and biting and singing the high, clear song to her prey which is usually reserved for socks.
Cats are a marvel and a glory upon the earth. *^^*
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https://youtu.be/pmGyZdx_QDI?si=jq8_2ihcCBlpdjAM
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ahahahahahaha beuatiffuly said.
*delights in Hestia*
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https://www.cambridgema.gov/Services/floodmap/floodviewer2025
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I read that one at (UK) college, sitting about the upstairs corridors, and while the only other one of hers I ever actually read was Adam Bede, I definitely preferred Middlemarch. I hope you continue to enjoy! There's also a (1993?) BBC adaptation that's supposed to be very good, and which I've always meant to check out, but I didn't read the book until after it was on TV.
I was exposed too early to the folktale in which it could always be worse, but it is nonsensical and nightmarish to me that this is the one we are all trapped in. It is because the universe is an unjust place that so many in power are not found in the morning blue-lipped, salt-lunged, sea-strangled on land.
:-/
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1993/4 Middlemarch on the tube
Re: 1993/4 Middlemarch on the tube
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Remind me which Goudge you like? I've never read her, and I'm curious.
(I am so lacking in familiarity with Boston that I cannot comment on its geography, but as a denizen of San Francisco, I know all about land that's borrowed from the sea.)
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I always liked Middlemarch -- it was a bit like an Always Coming Home that I could read, fantasy about an invented but very germane culture -- but it took me FOREVER to realize how funny it is. I was an extremely earnest and literal young person.
P.
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That sounds like an excellent opening visual/plot for a story.
A story I will not be surprised to find you left stranded on the sands years ago.
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I recently found a copy of this in a local thrift store but have been reluctant to get into it seeing as how there's plenty of other things hammering at the door, all eager to depress the fuck out of me. I just noticed this copy was signed by the primary author, which isn't too surprising since he is an emeritus professor at Duke here in Durham. I can remember his name popping up in articles about sea level rise that I read in the 1990s, maybe earlier. Every time a house on the Outer Banks falls into the surf and someone is inevitably quoted saying "I never imagined this could happen here," Professor Pilkey should get a royalty.
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