It’s always enjoyable when, on occasion, reading a book can recall other books and times since past. This afternoon I’ve been getting close to the finale of Something Wicked This Way Comes, which I stopped my race to the conclusion specially to write this.
The sun is shining here, and this together with the carnival setting, took me back to a time in 2016, when I spent some time, with Tom and fellow blogger Morgan, in which we wandered around Boston and stared at things.
This particular time we headed out to Salem by boat, appreciating the planes coming into land as they passed over, the island where Shutter Island was filmed, and then passed into the sometimes creepy, sometimes tacky Salem.
At one point, we three sat on the park for a bit of a rest. The sun – coincidentally the same one as today – was shining down on us, Tom had fallen asleep in the faintly sinister way that some people have of sleeping with their eyes partially open, and I was engaged in The Book of Speculation, picked up, speculatively enough from the Barnes & Noble near the hostel.
The novel felt good in my hands, with the unevenly cut pages and a front cover with a pile of old books tantalising a hint of mystery, hidden riddles, ready to be revealed only in the due course of time. Reading the book in Salem left plenty to muse upon, espeically with the atmosphere – real or imagind – the only thing that left me slightly disappointed was my inexplicable inability to pick up any of Nathaniel Hawthorne‘s books.