Now, quite recently finding myself on the point of sounding my last squawk! I thought of searching for the key to the ancient feast, where I might possibly recover my appetite.
I was eighteen when I first read these lines by Arthur Rimbaud, from a poem he wrote at the same age. They stayed with me, returning at certain axial moments when I needed to recover an appetite.
Some forty years later, in my sixties, I took early retirement from a job I no longer loved. What once thrilled me had become a deadening bore. Listlessness and lethargy ruled. And so, once more, I returned to that line.
What is the feast Rimbaud spoke of? I found a suggestion in a book written half a century later by Johan Huizinga:
The things that can make life enjoyable remain the same. They are, now as before, reading, music, fine arts, travel, the enjoyment of nature, sports, fashion, social vanity (knightly orders, honorary offices), and the intoxication of the senses.
Is this the feast Rimbaud talks of? It certainly appeals to me. If this is my last squawk, or even my second-last (I intend to live to at least ninety), then Johan’s list is a fine starting point, and Arthur’s search one worth pursuing.
This site is a record of that search: for the feast, the appetite, and perhaps even the keys.
On 6 December 1801, Johann Gottfried Seume set out on the journey to Italy that would make him famous. Over the course of nine months, his stroll led him through lands scarred by the Napoleonic wars: from Vienna, Trieste and Venice, through Rome and Naples to Syracuse, and from there back to Leipzig by way of Milan, Zurich, and Paris.
As for the meaning and purpose of such a journey, he spoke only vaguely:
To be sure, I have nothing particular to do in Italy - unless perhaps to glance a little at the Venus de’ Medici, to warm my hands and gaze into the mouth of Father Etna, and to read a poem by Theocritus at the tip of the Syracusan promontory.
Take a look at the Strolling to Syracuse website
Back to Top ↑This is the blog for the site, it covers all that Huizinga mentions above (reading, music, fine arts, travel, the enjoyment of nature, sports, fashion, social vanity - knightly orders, honorary offices), and the intoxication of the senses. and more.
Take a look at the Seven Days in May substack
Back to Top ↑They came out of West London — Ealing, Acton, the red skies over Wembley. In love with the Velvet Underground, Lou Reed, Bowie. They sang of cat people and dark streets; romantics to a fault — archangels, sweet love, doomed love, a twilight view.
Too much, too soon. They moved quickly across the city, shone brightly, flickered, and were gone. A forgotten band — undeservedly so.
Take a look at The Decorators website.
Back to Top ↑Maps in Books: mainly non-fiction, historical, travel. Books out-of-print, obscure, forgotten. Maps that tell their own story; authors with a story; cartographers and illustrators named and unknown. Sometimes…books with no maps, books that need maps.
I focus on the map, the person who made it (if known), the book, and the author. The map may not be the territory - but it is the story.
Take a look at the Maps in Book substack.
Back to Top ↑