I bought Jan Zita Grover's North Enough: AIDS and Other Clear-Cuts a couple of years ago from the Daedalus catalog--this was back when I still had a decent book budget--and for some reason I just couldn't get into it at the time. Picked it up again this week and--well, I'm truly moved by this memoir. Partly it's my own memories of friends lost to AIDS; but more than this, it's Jan's use of scarred landscape as a figure of consolation. Here's an excerpt:
Eric had a story, and like most people, he told it and retold it until he finally understood it. I must have heard it a dozen times before that happened. It was always while we were in motion, as if the ground moving beneath us set up a goading, reminiscing rhythm that pulled the story out of him like a ribbon from his throat.
RJ Gibson | white noise :: something
10 hours ago
1 comment:
Soon after Blane died, I wrote a review for the magazine at the gallery where I was working on art about AIDS and mentioned his death. Grover sent a really nice letter out of the blue thanking me for mentioning Blane. It really meant a lot to me.
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