Feeling guilty about justifying the writing about history on Lit-Ideas,
despite what I wrote previously, I returned to literature, and found an
article by Simon Leys (from the June 11, 1998 issue of the NYROB), "The
Imitation of Our Lord Don Quixote." I got only a short way before
running across a Cervantes quote that could perhaps apply to many of us
today, but probably only to me:
"This gentleman in the times when he had nothing to do -- as was the
case for most of the year -- gave himself to the reading of books of
knight errantry; which he loved and enjoyed so much that he almost
entirely forgot his hunting, and even the care of his estate. So odd
and foolish, indeed, did he grow on this subject that he sold many acres
of cornland to buy these books of chivalry to read. . . [In the end], he
so buried himself in his books that he spent the nights reading from
twilight till daybreak and the days from dawn till dark; and so from
little sleep and much reading, his brain dried up and he lost his wits."
Change but a few words here and there, and there I am . . . however dry
my brain, and the number of wits lost so far may be beyond modern
medical science to determine -- at least I have had no reason to admire
their acumen up until now. I might think that once the weather becomes
cooler and I take my dogs and a camera, climb into my ancient Jeep and
go a-hiking my brain will become lubricated and some of my wits
restored, but there in the midst of Simon Leys article is a drawing of
Don Quixote, riding Rosinante on a quest, his lance held high . . . .
Lawrence
