I'm thinking about horses
and I might be wrong. (Sometimes.)
And what if I am wrong? This truculent idea crawls into my mind that was just playing with all sorts of thoughts on books and life. One may call it an idle preoccupation – that suits only effete, lazy nobles – to stare at the ceiling and think.
Honestly, I wish I were an idle, lazy noble whose main preoccupation – as I imagine it, of course – is to choose what diamonds to put on for this evening ball. But I have no diamonds (for my engagement ring, I chose a passionate garnet. It turned out I wasn’t the only one, and Fanny from The Pursuit of Love also got herself a garnet ring). I am not a noble. And yet, there is always time for good silent thinking.
For example, the other day, my reading elation could have raised me just to the sky had my idea been right. I was reading A Short History of English Literature by Pramod K. Nayar when I came across a chapter about a pastoral romance called Arcadia.
The sound of this place, Arcadia, seemed extremely familiar to me, and, when my eyes caught the line “But the rustic theme is interwoven with mystery, clowning, crime, love, disguise, and a detective story,” I was dead sure that all the dots got connected. Of course, that is what the apartment building from my favorite TV show of all time (after The Office), Only Murders in The Building, is called. And there is indeed mystery, crime, love, and a detective story in it!
My excitement was already whispering new words for a newsletter – “everything is connected, and nothing is accidental” and “if you read books closely and mindfully, you will find the traces of their worlds everywhere” kind of thing – when I had to get back to earth. The apartment building where the three lonely lunatics started their podcast is called Arconia, not Arcadia. Oops.
I held onto the idea for two minutes – I happen sometimes to be more stubborn than any mules you have ever encountered in your life – but abandoned it for good. This time, I was wrong. No need to deny it.
I was, on the other hand, right (I checked it on the Internet, the divine source of all information) when I wrote in my note on Notes1 about House M.D. and Sherlock:
What is life if not a series of perpetual discoveries, some of which may be labeled as obvious to others, while some may be considered rather interesting?
What is blogging if not an eternal hope to share only interesting discoveries with your readers?
I didn’t watch House M.D. when it was in its prime. I didn't watch TV shows much back then. I guess I was reading, or we just didn’t have cable TV or … Well, never mind. There was a reason why I didn’t watch it, but I happened to forget it.
What has changed since that series-less time in my life is that I’m discovering House M.D. now. And damned I will be if it is not a medical version of Sherlock Holmes.
I mean, every episode starts with a mysterious disease, and our hero – an antisocial medical genius who takes drugs every now and then and limps, like, doesn’t he remind you of someone? Like, a certain Sherlock Holmes and his associate Dr. Watson? Nah? – using his intellectual capacities, finds the answer.
The mystery is solved, yet another case is cracked, and even if I know nothing about medicine, I am highly satisfied and not overwhelmed by all these medical terms.
(Here, you can read one of my posts about A Study in Scarlet.)
And now, after that glorious fiasco of Arcadia-Arconia, I’m thinking about horses. Vronsky broke the back of his horse, and their love with Anna was doomed. Tess of the d'Urbervilles killed her family horse, and she is doomed. What is it about horses that makes writers use them as a plot-prediction device? That, my bookish kindred spirits, is for another newsletter.
I have suddenly realized what bugs me about Notes and Instagram posts and why I will keep my writing preferences with Substack newsletters.
On Instagram, there is this kind of unspoken rule – more like a sign of courtesy – to like the posts of your colleagues and friends to help them in this game called All Things Algorithms. I do it myself (when I am on Instagram, which happens less and less often these days). The thing is, sometimes, you like a post without even reading it. Yep.
But I am at this stage in my life when I don’t really care about likes. I want my texts to be read. That’s it.
And that is the problem with Notes. I feel that, in the hubbub of notes, it is easy to get lost there. Since I’m not ready to spend my day writing notes to get seen, I realize that the newsletter format is optimal for me, because, statistically, chances are high that my newsletter will be read. And for now, I’m not asking for more.