Happily the particular issue of the LRB was found hung in the same place in Paperback’s front window, AU$11 at the improved exchange rate. The first page of the opening article immediately justified the purchase. All these years later surprising to be intro-ed to a notable C20th pianist never encountered previously: Emil Gilels, Odessa-born the year before the revolution. As well as the preceding on Beet’s music, the long paragraph of biographical tidbits delivered choice fare. The 60 apartments in Vienna because of arguments with servants and neighbours; the deathbed reference to the—formerly acclaimed—“shithead” (scheissekopf?) Napoleon; and then the useful grounding for the great composer of coded messages arranging trysts with prostitutes. All in all, better than anything scripted for the stage or TV James Wood’s unfolding. At the adjacent tables sat aficionados of the screen casting over this or that film, this or that actor, in this case with the tailor’s frontage dividing better than good distancing achieved. The young group preferred the more studied style of Self Preservation—close your eyes a moment and inner Paris nicely approximated. Some scrutiny was needed of the syllables of Mumbaimasala Toast. (Pellegrini’s was still stuck on minestrone & spag bol.) Upscale brasseries dispensed with price lists of vin on the boards. Certainly the appetisers here were reasonable, a range all under $20. From memory Enrico or Emilio was the maestro at American Tailor, man a shoe-in for any stage you care to name, operatic above all, audition not required. Three orders a week would suffice for a comfortable living at AT. How marvellous was this old worn shopfront with the corrugated tin and faded tiles. When Signor Santo first took over Pellegrini’s he had planned extensive renovations, until the clientele dissuaded. The sign must have come some time after the first coffee machine that arrived in this town. Some of the pall from Santo’s killing perhaps still hung over the place, although with the virus it was uncertain. Scouting at the Hill earlier a society madam had quizzed Pauline for some suggestions. She had read everything, whereto now? plaintively the lady. Dutifully Pauline escorted her across floor, stopping at the different tables, in her usual lower tone. A book a day was devoured by a friend or acquaintance of the woman, one possibly known to Pauline. Not far behind was the lady herself. Another Ferrante, perhaps, ventured P.? Well, was it the same pair of friends in this one? It would do well enough, then. Falling leaves on the pavement as one would wish; glimpses through the branches of the planter across Self Pres. What was the passing tote at the market over lunch, Play With Green? Uncontroversial. Pretty much gets the prevailing mood in this country. Foot of the Wood piece there was an advertisement for a pair brought out by Princeton: Hate In the Homeland & How God Becomes Real: Kindling the Presence of Invisible Others. Like venturesome painting overflowing the edge of the frame. Notwithstanding the Hilllady’s practise, gleaning over offerings and reading the better reviews more than sufficed, especially confining to the best practitioners. Light patronage allowed hold on the table the full hour. Rather a contrast to Nicholson Street. Here cool rich kids with their parents, prepubescent included, gave inklings Malibu and Greenwich Village.
NB. London Review of Books, 7 January 2021, “The Deaf Bear” (Beethoven), p. 3
Bourke Street, Melbourne
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