A Dorthy Parker quote from Ms. Wiggins' Eveless Eden. Books tend to be messy and novelists like to ramble, building their edifice with hammer and nails, bricks and wood, buckets of paint. Unlike the poet. Is there more to know about Eden without Eve than what Ms. Parker wrote?

I do like the book. It's about obsessive people doing obsessive things in obsessive relationships. It talks about journalism and photography (well, a bit) and some other things I'm rather obsessive about myself so my reaction is I wouldn't mind meeting the writer, or, to sit one evening in her group and listen to the conversation. That's a good sign. That's uncommon. Or maybe its just I'm ready to start reading again and I'm reeling from the shock. I did find this book, after all, on a remaindered rack.

So is it good? Well, we'll see if its more than just something that pushed my little buttons, whether it might push other people's little buttons as well. It's clear that I was supposed to find this book, however, finding it as I did yesterday on a remaindered rack. I dialed into Amazon.com and ordered another of her works, John Dollar, that Amazon said was out of print. This morning, just now, returning from Rockridge (coffee, the paper) I passed a book store and went in. John Dollar was on their remainered table in hardback with a copy of her latest, Almost Heaven, on the shelves. Both, of course, now sit on the chair beside my desk.

I'm going to go see if I can shoot the St. Patrick's Day Parade in San Francisco right now. The question is will it rain? I am going to bet not (And pack a lot of large plastic bags with zip locks. Nikons aren't waterproof.)

Rain. Lots of it. On the parade. So, I'll stay here, unpack the cameras and finish this. I'm not Irish, only ever had one girlfriend who was, and she doesn't send cards.

There's a comment in the book: you can tell exactly what kind of person you're dealing with by looking at their snapshots (what they put on the wall, what they put in their wallet), their books, their larder, their medicine chest and their closet. The books interest me and maybe the snapshots. That's why I wonder if this is a book that pushes my buttons (Isn't that what love is supposed to be about? Two sets of neuroses with matching little hooks that fit together like a zipper, two neuroses become one?), but otherwise might leave others cold. A book that with a hundred others would tell the Sole Proprietor's tale, no need to check the photographs, no need to check the closet, all of it there to see, no need for analysis.

We'll give it a couple of days to read the books.