How ungenerously in later life we disclaim the virtuous moods of our youth, living in retrospect long, summer days of unreflecting dissipation. There is no candour in a story of early manhood which leaves out of account the home-sickness for nursery morality, the regrets and resolutions of amendment, the black hours which, like zero on the roulette table, turn up with roughly calculable regularity.
--Brideshead Revisited, Et In Arcadia Ego, Chapter III
The incredible honesty of that--both in itself and as a function of conveying the rich depth of the narrating character--have been what is most pleasurable from the novel so far. Of course I love the scenery and the locale, too. But the characters as a whole are wonderfully developed. (Nathaniel, Anthony reminds me very much of the gentlemen with whom you fell in quite so unexpectedly the one night, and among whom you proved to be so particularly popular. :-) Am I right?)
I came in both to type that quote up while it was in my head and to get a bit of relief from the sun, which has just tipped the scale into "Hot." Had a chatty lunch with Kari-Shane Davis, who just arrived back in town, telling me about her journey westward. It was good to see her: she's the third of my closest friends from Marquette to move away and has particularly left me feeling aware of the vacuum. I'm grabbing her and John Jones tonight, maybe even some others, to head out to see Styx at Summerfest. That should satisfy my flashback desire, although I might walk around a bit: also at 10pm Kool and the Gang, Pat Benetar, The Gin Blossoms, Loverboy and The Fixx will be playing. I can never get enough of that frantic guitar line undergirding all of The Fixx's "One Thing Leads To Another."
So now I'll head back out and enjoy reading some more. Maybe I'll move around the Joan of Arc chapel to the stone table in the back--a bit shadier. Peace, all.