Status Updates From Os Anéis de Saturno

3. Fishermen on the beach – The natural history of herring – George Wyndham Le Strange – A great herd of swine – The reduplication of man – Orbis Tertius

...a long and rambling talk about the writing of a novel that would fly in the face of palpable facts and become entangled in contradictions in such a way that few readers – very few readers – would be able to grasp the hidden, horrific, yet at the same time quite meaningless point of the narrative.

That certainly sums up neatly what I’ve been subjected to these first 75 pages, doesn’t it?

…the disturbing thing about mirrors, and also the act of copulation, is that they multiply the number of human beings. (p. 70)

Misshapen, like some great mollusc washed ashore, they lay there, to all appearances a single being, a many-limbed, two-headed monster that had drifted in from far out at sea, the last of a prodigious species, its life ebbing from it with each breath expired through its nostrils.

I went to the cliff and saw that [the sand martins] had dug their nesting holes into the topmost layer of clay, one beside the other. I was thus standing on perforated ground,… (p. 68)

Farrar is the third name who is introduced and announced dead in the same breath. Sebald effortlessly and seemingly random goes from one subject to the next. Along the way, I figured it’s like these staan of fragments, like the debris of the Rings of Saturn are orbiting around a (yet) unarticulated point. So far, a lot of decline and loss…

2. The diesel train – Morton Peto’s palace – Visiting Somerleyton – The cities of Germany in flames – The decline of Lowestoft – The former coastal resort – Frederick Farrar and the city of King James II

[Frederick] devoted himself to breeding rare roses and violets. I need hardly add that the iris was also one of his favourites.

.. on account of course of his sisters names are Violet, Iris and Rose. I love how Sebald takes for granted that we paid attention on the previous page…

The great pain of separation, Frederick recalled, was with me for a long time, especially before going to sleep or when I was tidying my things; but one evening at the start of my second year, when we were told to assemble on the west forecourt, this pain was transformed within me into a kind of perverse pride. (p. 46)

The stuffed polar bear in the entrance hall stands over three yards tall. With its yellowish and moth-eaten fur, it resembles a ghost bowed by sorrows.