2009. október 1., csütörtök

3rd entry for 2nd Oct.

I’ve read some more of the introduction, and I must admit the author’s enthusiasm about pleasing me with his impossible vocabulary already started to amaze me. I’m still not sure if I’ll be ’allowed’ to read a sigle sentence without a dictionary. He’ll run out of new words once, won’t he?
And all he was writing about were some simple things around a wharf and its custom house!

Well, after finishing his funny-words-about-custom-houses collection, it seems telling about his "unhealthy connexion" with Salem, (his, and all his ancestors' natal spot) draws a much more reasonable amount of such linguistic treasure.

He has got an interesting point here, however. His very first ancestors, about 300 years earlier, have played an important role in founding the town and organizing its life, and thence, his family got more and more rooted in Salem.

That's not that fascinating, there might be a dozen of reasons to feel connected with your hometown. It could be the parents' effect, it could be that you had spent all your wonderful childhood there, it even could be said that the ghost of that first progenitor „who came so early, with his Bible and his sword” is having a spell on you.
They all could make you affected to an otherwise worthless place. But then, there's some resemblance with a theory from some other writer from the twentieth century, who was assuming some kind of genetical memory, adding up generation by generation. (As far as I know, it wouldn't fit today's genetical science, however, Darwin's original theory about the selection of random mutations is invalid already.)

Mr. Hawthorne told us that it wasn't any kind of appreciation, since the town in his time had the most faults you could imagine. Neither any kind of love, and it was joyless anyway. No, he called it instinct.

And I'm wondering if it could be else than geniune instinct.

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