I am living with a chill, both bodily and psychologically. All my life I’ve lived in a democracy, but that ended on January 20, replaced by a kleptocracy directed by a malignant and felonious dictator for his own benefit. He is daily and aggressively testing the limits of the balance of power, eviscerating the functions of government and appointing only loyalists to fill the empty posts, à la Putin and Xi. When I look to the future I see only this man who has stolen it from us. Yessiree, I will live out my days in the U.S. Of A., a wholly owned subsidiary of Trump Enterprises, LLC. What a joy! What a privilege!
Now, as to the other chill, the physical one—that is so much easier to remedy. All it takes is expenditure. And patience. And horripilation.
I am referring to the fact that the ancient twin furnaces gave out on Christmas Eve and have not yet been replaced, though a whole team of people are working on the problem at present and we should again have heat in the house soon. It’s not as if there’s any danger of the pipes freezing here in coastal California, but the mornings have been in the forty degree Fahrenheit range and the fireplace can only do so much. As for the warranty, I doubt if it’s still in effect a hundred and sixteen years later, so I’m not going to go there. The fact is that I do love a fire in the big old fireplace here, but now it has become a necessity. How has it affected my work? I push forward doggedly, despite the chilblains on my knuckles and the fact that each day I feel more and more like Bob Cratchit hovering over his guttering candle. (I do have an electric space heater but it doesn’t do much and it really makes the meter spin.) In the midst of all this—chilled soul, chilled body—I am writing the new stories for the next collection and beginning to envision possibilities for the next novel.
Meanwhile, I will soon have the new novel, "No Way Home," to offer you. Its coming release has ignited a brushfire of sorts in the publishing world because of the extraordinary contract Georges Borchardt has arranged with Jo Lendle of Hanser Verlag for its European publication. Hanser will bring out their translation (by my longtime translator, the superb Dirk Van Gunsteren) in the fall of this year, while the original American version will wait till spring, at which point Hanser Verlag will publish their own English-language version. Me? I am guided by my agent, through this has effectively ended my long association with Bloomsbury in England. I am going to weep and dance at the same time.
Finally, there are some advantages to having zero heat in the house, beyond the obvious savings in natural gas, that is. For one thing, we’ve invited both dog and cat into the bed at night, as well as a selection of the rats that live in the walls, which makes things nice and cozy. Plus, the species-specific fleas are getting along nicely—and that’s really something to be thankful for in this contentious ass-over-teakettle world.