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I recently learned that a co-worker was a poet after I asked her about the book she was reading, The Magic Mountain by Thomas Mann. I made a half-hearted attempt to read it once, maybe 20 years ago, after learning that it was one of Joseph Campbell's favorites. Joseph Campbell is one of my favorites, but he reigns beyond my capacity to emulate. Finnegans Wake was another of Campbell's favorites (Campbell studied the book for years and wrote A Skeleton Key to Finnegans Wake). I knew a Harvard English graduate who couldn't read it, and the Skeleton Key is about as far as I ever got. Who knows, though. One of these days I might find the right speed of life to be able to enjoy and comprehend the art of Mann and Joyce. Until then, I'll savor the more visceral art of Mt. Tam.
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