![]() ![]() “ living closely in the dismal proximity of aquatic creatures had fixed the muscles of their faces in a bestial placidity.” It seemed highly appropriate as this is a story of a hedonist type who is sad about the end of every meal, a thought then leading, through some striking imagery, towards some morbid considerations of those he has seen died, including his own plump wife, the dead who are often pecked empty by the ‘strigae’…Ī new writer to me who has been recommended, reputedly in significant connection with other fin de siècle writers, even Apollinaire, and possibly influenced by Borges, but that was only by cursory incomplete glance at the book’s cover, as I do not intend to read the introductory material by the translator until I have reviewed all the Schwob. ![]() Quietly, with my iPad I took that photo and I am now indoors. I just read this first work in the book in my garden on a beautiful summer evening, and, during this process, one by one those birds landed on my neighbour’s roof and looked at me quizzically. “While one watches over the dead, one can hear the strigae: they sing airs that carry one away and which, despite oneself, one obeys.” ![]()
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