The nostalgia I have been cherishing all these years is a hypertrophied sense of lost childhood, not sorrow for lost banknotes.

My used copy of the book has been violently underlined.  So many times I don’t have any idea why the person chose to underline what he/she did.  Since the book is already marked up, I’ve been writing in it so I can remember what I wanted to talk about here at Middlemarchers.  I’ve noticed that I like the poetry.

Anyway . . . I always think that his memories of his childhood are so vivid, coherent, and meaningful.  I suppose some of that comes with reflection and revisions and another part comes from his genius.  Most of my childhood memories are fuzzy images of the carefree-ness of the good old days or of the bondage of having parents.  Not very much of it carries meaning–unless I think about it really hard.  Then the meaning comes out through my adult self and I’m sure it isn’t the same meaning it had for me when I was living it.

I just read his description of his slow, reluctant meander at bedtime–very perfect and poetic.  My favorite line was on page 83: “With every new summer, the process of squeezing through [the posts in the banister] became more difficult; nowadays, even my ghost would get stuck.”

Purblind and Ghyll–if I’m going to be the only one to look up words . . .

Purblind–dimsighted

Ghyll–a woody glen