Steve Reads

I found one newspaper’s idea of the 100 best books ever (“as determined from a vote by 100 noted writers from 54 countries as released by the Norwegian Book Clubs”). I’ve cached it as well, for posterity. I’ve read 16 1/3 of the books on that list, if we count Inferno as 1/3 of The Divine Comedy. Looks like I have my work cut out for me.

Note that I’m especially pleased to see Midnight’s Children on that list. I thought it was a masterpiece, but I didn’t know it had such acclaim among the literati (or at least this subset of the literati).

For those times, late into the night, when no birds are chirping and you’re all alone with your conscience, and it feels like you’re the only one who cares, and that caring itself has become passé, and that people view indifference not just as a way of life, but as a necessary bodily function like breathing; and when you get that horrible clenching sensation in your stomach that maybe you made a mistake a long way back by starting to care; but you’re still not far enough along that you can tell everyone to go fuck themselves and retreat into your drink; on these occasions there is Bob Dylan, passionately and effortlessly singing “When The Ship Comes In” into your headphones.

Oh the time will come up
When the winds will stop
And the breeze will cease to be breathin’.
Like the stillness in the wind
‘Fore the hurricane begins,
The hour when the ship comes in.

Oh the seas will split
And the ship will hit
And the sands on the shoreline will be shaking.
Then the tide will sound
And the wind will pound
And the morning will be breaking.

Oh the fishes will laugh
As they swim out of the path
And the seagulls they’ll be smiling.
And the rocks on the sand
Will proudly stand,
The hour that the ship comes in.

And the words that are used
For to get the ship confused
Will not be understood as they’re spoken.
For the chains of the sea
Will have busted in the night
And be buried at the bottom of the ocean.

A song will lift
As the mainsail shifts
And the boat drifts on to the shoreline.
And the sun will respect
Every face on the deck,
The hour that the ship comes in.

Then the sands will roll
Out a carpet of gold
For your weary toes to be a-touchin’.
And the ship’s wise men
Will remind you once again
That the whole wide world is watchin’.

Oh the foes will rise
With the sleep still in their eyes
And they’ll jerk from their beds and think they’re dreamin’.
But they’ll pinch themselves and squeal
And they’ll know that it’s for real,
The hour when the ship comes in.

Then they’ll raise their hands,
Sayin’ we’ll meet all your demands,
But we’ll shout from the bow your days are numbered.
And like Pharaoh’s tribe,
They’ll be drownded in the tide,
And like Goliath, they’ll be conquered.