Tired and raggedy-of-nerve in the car ride going home so I took charge and put on Suzanne Vega’s self-titled album. Nostalgic, soothing, one of my favorites. (And what an under-appreciated artist she is.) “Small Blue Thing” shivers with sustained sensuality, lyrics hiding almost in plain sight. “Undertow”… I have deep associations of this song with the first time I read Keri Hulme’s novel, The Bone People, another perennial and irreplaceable favorite. I loved both Vega and Hulme as a teenager but I didn’t understand why (either of them) until I became an adult. Suzanne Vega helped me see, Hulme made me feel seen, but also the reverse, for both. I’ve been shaped by these artworks, almost certainly in more ways than I realize. So much that it’s almost a secret.
(I’m due for another read of The Bone People actually. Maybe soon.) (Still enjoying, savouring Red Mars. Why does Kim Stanley Robinson taste so good, going so slow? Oh I know why, I look up science stuff and get distracted reading about volcanism on Mars, etc. Is this escapism?)