Portrait of Franz Kafka — Carl Köhler

A Wrecked Sugar Refinery — John Singer Sargent

“A Drunken Man’s Praise Of Sobriety” — W.B. Yeats

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Bingo’s Run (Book Acquired, 12.16.2013)

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Bingo’s Run by James A. Levine is new in hardback from Random House in January of 2014. Their blurb:

Meet Bingo, the greatest drug runner in the slums of Kibera, Nairobi, and maybe the world. A teenage grifter, often mistaken for a younger boy, he faithfully serves Wolf, the drug lord of Kibera. Bingo spends his days throwing rocks at Krazi Hari, the prophet of Kibera’s garbage mound, “lipping” safari tourists of their cash, and hanging out with his best friend, Slo-George, a taciturn fellow whose girth is a mystery to Bingo in a place where there is never enough food. Bingo earns his keep by running “white” to a host of clients, including Thomas Hunsa, a reclusive artist whose paintings, rooted in African tradition, move him. But when Bingo witnesses a drug-related murder and Wolf sends him to an orphanage for “protection,” Bingo’s life changes and he learns that life itself is the “run.”

A modern trickster tale that draws on African folklore, Bingo’s Run is a wildly original, often very funny, and always moving story of a boy alone in a corrupt and dangerous world who must depend on his wits and inner resources to survive

Five from Félix Fénéon

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Michelangelo’s Grocery List

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Portrait of Félix Fénéon — Paul Signac

Bookworm’s Michael Silverblatt with William Gass (1998)

“The Poem That Took The Place Of A Mountain” — Wallace Stevens

“The Poem That Took The Place Of A Mountain” by Wallace Stevens

There it was, word for word,
The poem that took the place of a mountain.

He breathed its oxygen,
Even when the book lay turned in the dust of his table.

It reminded him how he had needed
A place to go to in his own direction,

How he had recomposed the pines,
Shifted the rocks and picked his way among clouds,

For the outlook that would be right,
Where he would be complete in an unexplained completion:

The exact rock where his inexactness
Would discover, at last, the view toward which they had edged,

Where he could lie and, gazing down at the sea,
Recognize his unique and solitary home.

 

Hotel by a Railroad — Edward Hopper