In Which I Reflect
Still in recovery mode after finishing John Banville's The Sea. Nobody writes about death and memory quite like the Irish. After finishing The Sea, I felt like jumping into it. There was a time when I would pick up a book like that one and read about all of these desiccated, decaying characters and think, "I'll never be like that." Now it's more Oh, yes. That.
Prior to that, another melancholy text. Follies is at Chicago Shakespeare Theater. I can't deny it, it's superb production, but we left right after I'm Still Here, which was knocked out of the park by Hollis Resnik. Really, after that number, you've pretty much seen Follies. We would have stayed longer but it's impossible to receive the magic of the show from seat A1 in Dress Circle. Why they sell this seat is beyond me; all of the downstage
