In Old Biscuit Tin
(The Last Update)
In Brooklyn farmhouse, up in attic, in old biscuit tin, in moldering photo album held together by butcher’s twine:
Portrait of the author and his protagonist. A glimpse of Tomboy! Was not easy to get her to stand still; she particularly resented the notion that any chemical process could catch up with her. She has, you see, fast feet.
Look closely, dear villager, and you will notice—from the lycanthropic protrusion of oversized incisors, the pitch of his left shoulder, and the pelt on his left forearm—that our mild-mannered author (cradling his copy of Cedar) is here in the earliest stages of becoming a werewolf. Revealing snapshot, this. Damningly so!
Gather your stones, citizen; uncrate your silver bullets.
One more note, dear reader, before this Dziupla account, like the Moomintroll clan, fills its stomach with a meal of pine needles, and beds down for the winter:
“I have finished a book,” wrote Tomi Ungerer, once upon a time before I was born, “and will take it to Zurich myself.”
I happened upon this quotation a year ago, while knee-deep in the vicarious tidal muck of Ungerer’s reissued Nova Scotia diary. I was with Johan, in the living room of his ancestral Finnish summer home (house on rock in bay—yellow room diorama by Johan), and it was maybe 4 o’clock in the afternoon, in late November, and pitch dark and cold out, and we had eight or so hours left of book and board game cocooning before bedtime.
Well, down into my notepad went this quotation. “I will finish this book,” I mumbled out loud, in reference to Cedar, “and will take it home to Krakow myself.” Although, of course, “myself” eventually came to include an artist, a graphic designer, a printing coordinator (slash wife!), an image preparation specialist, a dozen printers and binders, a van driver, and more than sixty friends and supporters.
And so here’s to making books, finishing them, and leaving literal and metaphorical fingerprints all over them throughout the process.
Here’s to support, too.
Last word goes to the slingshot.