Ode to The Line, a Debriefing of The American, and a dash of Tomato Porn

Before I get to tonight's topics: today, my first paying client...paid me! And now, stuff that is not as exciting.

Tonight I stood with about five others in a slow-moving Line at the library, impatiently waiting my turn while reminding myself that I really hadn't been waiting that long. All of sudden a rogue stepped up to the counter just vacated by another patron. The problem with his sudden appearance at the counter: he skipped the Line! He had simply ignored the sign that read "Please form one line here" and blithely sallied up to the counter at the end farthest from the hanging directive. Others in Line grumbled a bit, while I pondered the lack of character, to be so unaware of one's surroundings, much like bad drivers on cellphones or those merely daydreaming. Or perhaps he was from Europe or some such place, where people congregate around a desired purpose in a frightening absence of longitudinal order. Well if so, he had been in the U.S. long enough to get a library card, and probably long enough to wait in Line at the DMV (ha! he could not have survived skipping that Line without some bite marks or bullet holes, right L.L.?). Regardless, we said nothing as the man readied his books and library card, though this faux pas is one of the few remaining that inspire patriotic ferver in fellow Lineholders....but wait! A man, clearly a regular geek/patron of the library (takes one to know one) said politely, with a slight tremor, "Sir, the line forms over here." Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah! The man grabbed his things from the counter, turned, and made his way to the back of the line in an agreeable manner, no scowl to be detected! And the last semblance of American public civility lives to fight another day.

Speaking of American/European clashes (real or imagined), I finally finished Henry James' The American. I must say, I almost gave up about halfway through, when it appeared that absolutely nothing would happen. So our hero Newman travels to Paris to hunt down a bride after having accumulated massive wealth as a "commercial man" in the U.S. circa when steamership was the way to go. He makes some friends and proposes to Claire de Cintre, a titled young widow. Her family begrudgingly allows the engagement, and the story plods on with nary a hint of coming drama (okay, there were hints, just wanted to say nary, and the hints were few and far between). Newman is irritatingly happy and good-natured. I suppose he is the Everyman (the New-Man) American travelling abroad, risking language and etiquette gaffs along the way. Well, his Parisian acquaintances prove disloyal, snooty, and wrapped up in stupid things like gentry, which I think is the point James is trying to make. The good guys in the story get the short end of the stick, except for Newman, who ends up good-natured and relatively happy, until the very last line of the book (don't bother trying to impress your friends with your book knowledge by reading the first and last lines of the novel, it doesn't work with this one, you will have no idea what is going on). Was this review helpful? I think not. Did reading The American make me a better, more enlightened guest at cocktail parties? I think not. Do I wonder why there are people who devote their careers to studying Henry James? I think so, and I welcome their venom (maybe someday I will learn to appreciate James, possibly by reading another of his novels...but that day has not come, especially when my reading time is occupied by such fantastic modern work like The Thing Around Your Neck by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie!).

Last but not least, some saucy Tomato Porn. Well, it is a fetish of all in-season vegetables, but Tomoto Porn is much more sonically enticing than Vegetable Porn, and tomatoes are far and away my favorite. Don't worry folks, what you are about to see is not obscenity, which we know is illegal, but simply some tasteful photos of recent footage from behind the garage and at the farmers market. Feast your eyes on this from the Ann Arbor Farmers Market:

And this behind my own garage: