chicating

Maybe I'll do this every week, but I won't promise. But here is one for today!

But if this blog truly has a job, I wouldn’t feel like I did it if I didn’t read and make notes on “Knife” since there is so much inside it that has also been here, in a halting way: crime, disability/recovery, and writing. I admired when on page 63 Rushdie wrote that he wanted his attacker, known in the book as A, to “look me in my one eye, and tell me the truth.” Because everything the young man did say seemed so painfully inadequate. Rushdie writes that he might not have been there if his airconditioner hadn’t gone out, if his newly-married life hadn’t hit such a high, and, of course, if he hadn’t written a book in “Satanic Verses” that had become That Book for so many. (His assailant barely knew about that, it should be noted, but that kind of notoriety does appear to leave a trail.) It’s hard to read that and not fall back into that perversely-comforting true-crime trap, that in some ways, might be part of the real draw for some of us: Suddenly, instead of a lonely-and-broke Saturday night(again), it seems suddenly perceptive not to have a date for six years, forcing The Friday’s Killer to look elsewhere for his yummy treats