I got some extremely good news on Tuesday. I had one day to enjoy and then... well, then. Wednesday night I slept with the TV on, because I was seized by anxiety whenever I tried switching it off. And so, even without waking up fully, I knew when it happened. The next day I went around with a strange feeling of relief. It was happened: it was out of our hands. Then my ingrained optimism kicked in. Maybe, I thought, it will be like in the song: it's going to be a small war, and it won't be people fighting it, and when it's over nobody will remember it. Maybe it won't be so bad. Then I looked at the TV and remembered how much they lied last time around.
I have had along the years the fortune and privilege to be the Italian translator of some of the worksIain (M) Banks. He's one of my heroes. It has happened that his books have disappointed me a bit, but it is with a feeling of warm fuzziness that I read this.