The Books I Did Not Read in 2015

As I have in years past (2013, 2014), I will use the inevitable year-end recap time to list some of books I did not read in 2015. These are books I own and considered reading this year but did not. As the ellipses testifies, this is of necessity a partial list.

Poetics of Reverie, The Practice of Everyday Life, Imperial, Madness in Civilization, Native American Testimony, PrairyErth, Less Than One, Songs in Flight, Sula, The Road to Xanadu, Ardor, The Forty-Nine Steps, Let Us Now Praise Famous Men, Dreams of a Final Theory, Street of Thieves, Dispatches from Utopia, 2666, Tales of the Strange and Marvelous, Nostalgia, The Changeling, I Love Dick, Wise Children, Great Plains, Wilderness and the American Mind, The White Goddess, The Last Lover, The Tears of Things, Omensetter’s Luck, Trieste, Shyness & Dignity, Obscurity, War, So Much War, The Lover, The North China Lover, The Turn of the Screw, Echo Tree, On the Edge, Old Masters, Dispossessed, Pitch Dark, Go Tell it on a Mountain, In the Freud Archive, Gilead, News from the Empire, Wisdom Sits in Places, Dream of Reason, History of White People, What Animals Think, A Form/Of Taking/It All, A Topology of Everyday Constellations, The House of Breath, The Passion According to G.H., The Anatomy of Melancholy, How Forests Think, Kindred…

Crumbling

Laurent-Kronental-Washington-Post-17

In Laurent Kronental’s series, “Souvenir d’un Futur” (Memory of a Future), the product of four years of visits to nearly a dozen of these [high-rise public housing projects, in Paris and its surrounding banlieues], the modernist concrete landscapes are made to seem impossibly huge and virtually abandoned, like something out of a dystopian fantasy.

Claire-Louise Bennett, “The Big Day”

English, strictly speaking, is not my first language by the way. I haven’t yet discovered what my first language is so for the time being I use English in order to say things. I expect I will always have to do it that way; regrettably I don’t think my first language can be written down at all. I’m not sure it can be made external you see. I think it has to stay where it is; simmering in the elastic gloom betwixt my flickering organs.