I am really enjoying this collection. The stories transport me in a few lines to whichever part of America they are set in and I’m usually there without a break ’til the end of the story. This isn’t the same as the ‘sense of place’ so often commented on by writers on Faulkner and others, as Wolff moves easily from desert to suburb to city as he tells us of his characters’ troubles, delights and then often more troubles, usually of the spirit. His endings for me form a major part of the experience as they ripple out beyond the last sentence into the silence in which I gaze up the garden or out into the night while the story’s effect endures.

So Borders the bookshop chain is closing down. The branch in Brighton was heaving this weekend with bargain-hunters like me looking for the best stuff on which to apply their 40% sale discount. Settled on The Family Mashber by Der Nister, a collection of Tobias Wolff‘s stories called Our Story Begins and a Lonely Planet City Guide to Chicago. Hoping to go there sometime before the end of the decade. Only ever flown into and out of the airport. Been to New York, Syracuse, Memphis, San Francisco, Portland Oregon, Seattle, Vancouver, Lancaster County and State College Pennsylvania, Cape Cod, Oxford Mississippi, Asheville NC, Appomattox, Montreal, Toronto and many other interesting parts of  North America – nothing against Chicago, just ain’t got round to it yet.   Been interested in ‘Border Studies’ since doing a Diploma in HE in American Studies at Staffordshire University back in the 1990s. Wrote an essay then on the clash of cultures around the Mexico – USA highly porous border. Wonder if I still have it somewhere? I thought it was quite good at the time.  (American Studies was closed down at Staffordshire Uni several years ago).  Posted a comment on Jeff Newberry’s Muse of Fire blog mentioning The Work of Art in The Age of Mechanical Reproduction. He lives in Georgia, USA. A bit of border crossing going on there, indeed. What’s a border on the internet? And then there’s Cormac McCarthy’s western novels, from Blood Meridian to No Country for Old Men.

Got news of the funeral next Friday of a work colleague. Cancer. Bit of a family row at the son’s partner’s parents’ house yesterday. Seasonal maybe. This week was my brother Bob’s 69th birthday. The coal bunker is full now and 10 bags of logs are in the shed, sorry workshop. Today our good neighbours Helen, Mark, Emma and James fetched our Christmas tree from a nearby farm. It is now in the bay window with lights and red and gold decorations. They bought us a present of a big stick of brussel sprouts too.  Other traditional things starting up, with a coal / log fire and a space waiting for presents underneath the tree. We went to James’ infant school’s Christmas performance of The Donkey Seller yesterday – he was the innkeeper who didn’t think much of babies and their smelly nappies but found some room in his stable. Small parcels have been arriving from family members’ online shopping. This house seems to be acting as Santa’s Grotto. Tomorrow we are going to hear and sing carols at the John Rylands University Library in Deansgate, Manchester.  I never got religion but rituals, pagan or otherwise, based on these sorts of activities are fine and I don’t need reminding at any stage what “the true meaning of Christmas is”.  The book with a chapter by Beth in it arrived today too; very heavy. Our postal service is excellent.

How long before the barbarians decide that there is no evidence of “progression” or vocational qualifications in these courses and as a consequence decide that they must “go”; or will they survive just so long as they break even from the fees charged? At least some concessionary rates survive up ’til now, £20 for either 20 or 10 week courses, which is pretty good, I reckon.

Discussion around T S Eliot today; The Waste Land, the validity of the ‘elitist’ criticism, his happiness, melancholy, guilt, marriages,  and psychotherapy amongst other topics. Also Amy Lowell and H. D.  On to Willa Cather’s My Antonia next week. We rattle through’em! Lovely listening to John Toft our tutor talking from such a long and dedicated experience of working in literature (which began some years before he was my wife’s tutor at Brighton College of Education in 1966-70) along with his interaction with the other members of the group, many of whom, it appears, have been studying with him for years.