Today

First two hours, covered Children's; questions: books about Spring, rainbow, for pre-K; Spiderman.

At 11, up to Reference, question about Marco Polo's travels. Man said he had already traveled to the East, while in the service (Armed Forces). Wants to follow some of Polo's route. Asked about a city called Kamul. Found a result that puts it in western Iran. (Just noticed there is also a Kamul-li, in Korea.) Also asked about Tabriz (in Iran, as well). Said he'll probably go to China; fascinated with the East. I endorsed Venice.

He already has this book, but when I showed him the one I knew, he became enthusiastic, and took it with him.

Marco Polo : from Venice to Xanadu / by Laurence Bergreen.


This book (right) is the companion to the show I saw on PBS. Found it online, showed him it can be watched online.




In the afternoon, back at Reference, a young man came over to the desk, looking for a book on SAT Math; alas, our copy is out. He returned, asking for The talented tenth, by W. E. B. DuBois. We own a book, The Negro problem; a series of articles by representative American Negroes of to-day, which contains that essay. A new one to me; there is always more to learn.

Keen Eye, Staccato Brush

Slideshow


As he traveled through Italy, the painter focused on details of place, recording with bold strokes not only characteristic buildings or how the distinctive ruddy, lozenge-shaped sails of Venetian fishing boats punctuate an expanse of blue water, but also such specifics as the way Venetian women drape their shawls. His eye was equally acute for qualities of light, as he conjured up the subtleties of changing seasons, times of day and weather with a nuanced palette. In "Prendergast in Italy," the moist gray radiance of early spring in the Mediterranean is suggested in watercolors made during a trip south to escape the cold and damp of a Venetian winter, but mostly the sun shines, skies are dazzlingly blue, flags stir in gentle breezes and water sparkles in detached patterns of light and dark.

Even rain elicits delicious images. A shower provides shimmering reflections in the wet pavement of the Piazza San Marco: the basilica's complex façade, with its rows of stacked columns, lunettes and glittering mosaics, fuses with the figures milling in front of the splendid doors. A more ­determinedly rainy day offers an excuse to translate water and pavement, gondolas, and pedestrians huddled under black umbrellas into a tasty ­orchestration of beiges, grays and cool gray-blue. But we see far more parasols than umbrellas in Prendergast's ­Venice, bold spots of color that form a cheerful, tossing canopy above the throngs swarming over the arched bridges, all of it turned into rapid touches of ­unmodulated hues distilled from the sunlight reflected from the ­canals.

In my experience, Mexico offers as beautiful a landscape and rich an architectural heritage as Italy, but it has nothing to equal Venice. What country does? As far as I know, Venice is unique.

The fine selection in "Prendergast in Italy" draws upon the large collection given to Williams by the widow of the artist's brother and that of the show's joint organizer, the ­Chicago-based Terra Foundation for American Art. What's perhaps most remarkable about the exhibited works is that no matter how familiar or potentially "touristic" Prendergast's subjects, his images are never predictable or trite. However much a view of the Grand Canal resonates with our own experience of Venice, it engages us most deeply as a painting. "Prendergast in Italy" is worth a detour, as the Michelin guides say.


Williams College Museum of Art

The Writer and His Refuge

Mr. Conroy is famous for having mined his own life and that of his family for material from which to craft his earlier novels "The Great Santini," "The Lords of Discipline," "The Prince of Tides" and "Beach Music." Readers—or moviegoers who've seen the films based on the books—know of his constant ­uprooting because of his father's career as a fighter pilot; his changing feelings about his alma mater, the Citadel; his earlier marriages; his time in Paris and Rome; and—thanks to his cookbook/memoir—his appreciation of food. But I've asked to speak with both Mr. Conroy and Ms. King because I want them to tell me about their time writing in Highlands, N.C., my hometown, and maybe reclaim a little of Mr. Conroy's fame for the Tar Heel State. After all, he lived in both Belmont and New Bern for periods during his youth, and he's been a fan of Thomas Wolfe since his junior year of high school, when his English teacher gave him a copy of "Look Homeward, Angel," then drove him to Asheville to retrace Wolfe's ­footsteps.

Ladri di biciclette

Bicycle Thiefs - Vittorio de Sica's 1948 film. A fascinating aspect of it is seeing how poor and devastated Italy was after WW2. In black and white, it has a stark feel, an almost desperate air at times, enhancing its impact. Early on there is a scene where the lead character, Antonio Ricci, leaves his bicycle to be watched by a kid, and the anticipation of its being stolen is palpable. As an aside, I mention that when Ricci returns the kid is nowhere to be seen, though the bicycle is still there.