November. If you gaze long into November, November will gaze back into you. It’s not even necessary to gaze as such, stealing a tiny glimpse will do just as well to attract the attention of November. And once its’ focus is set on you, you will wither under its’ stare. I have strong evidence on this, based on self-observation. November is hardly a walk in the park at the best of times, on years when a dry and gentle autumn has ventured deep into the enemy territory that is winter, refusing to give up the stage but bullheadedly carrying on regardless of what the calender might say about the changing of seasons. I like those prolonged autumns a lot, the kind that go on and on until suddenly it’s Christmas, snow falls and covers everything overnight and the temperature drops below zero to a comfortably dry and crisp frost. Tidily and neatly changing seasons. I’d like to have more of those thank you very much.

Of course it’s absurdly too much to ask. The wet, rainy and cold season seems to take six months of the year nowadays. Sometimes it grudgingly gives way to another wet, rainy and slightly less colder season like it did this year. Titles like “summer” and “winter” are becoming obsolete and increasingly non-descriptive of these new seasons. We need to invent new, more suitable terms to apply to these new divisions of the year. Were I not so daunted by this November, I’d gladly take on this task of renaming our two remaining seasons. An autumnish one with echoes of winters gone by and an occasional flicker of proper coldness, forever looming in the horizon, and another one, distantly resembling spring with a faint promise of summer that will mostly remain unfulfilled. I would launch the new more fitting names right here, right now, were I not so daunted by this November. But I am, so I won’t.

And this years’ November isn’t even of the worst kind. There’s probably been many that were a lot worse but I have mercifully forgotten about them. But this year November drains my energy more thoroughly than it has for a long time, this year it sits on my chest heavier than it usually does and this year it holds my zest for life by the throat more firmly and with much more determination than on average years. So it’s a slight inconvenience.

Knowing it will pass makes it easier to tolerate, and feeling down now and then is healthy. But. I’ve been too tired lately to do anything significant. I’ve been too tired to think about anything too complicated. I’ve been too tired to stay awake from morning to evening. I haven’t been too tired to feel frustrated about getting nothing done though, and feeling frustrated about getting nothing done doesn’t improve one’s chances of getting something done at all. I feel I’ve had my healthy dose of feeling down by now and I’m very very ready to let this state of mind pass already. I need the Sun to shine extensively on my hypothalamus and various other places as well while it’s at it. Sadly this, too, is absurdly too much to ask at the moment.

THIS WEEKS’ SOURCE OF DELIGHT:
The surprise birthday party of my dear friend Markku last Saturday. It was utterly, utterly lovely and just the kind of thing that helps to keep going and survive this desolate season.

THIS WEEKS’ BOOKS OF CHOICE:
The Da-Da-De-Da-Da Code by Robert Rankin. This months’ book of choice morelike, since I’ve been reading it for the past three weeks. The link, once again, describes the book much better and much more in detail than I would. Robert Rankin is among my all-time favourite authors and I’ve always enjoy his books, to some extent at least. Although, to be honest, I can’t remember when was the last time “this is brilliant” came to mind when reading a book of his. The past five years or so have seen a considerable drop of standard in his characters, plots and, well, the overall quality of everything in fact and his latest novels have been very forgettable and full of old ideas recycled and/or repeated. Therefore it’s all the more surprising and delightful to find out that his 29^th novel is probably the best he’s ever written, or at least among the very best ones. I enjoyed it immensely and right now it feels like I might still be able to remember the main parts of the plot in a few months’ time from now which certainly hasn’t been the case with some of his weaker efforts.

“A headless corpse was floating on the ornamental pond. It troubled the view and it troubled the ducks and it troubled the two park rangers.” With these opening lines it instantly grabbed me and went on to showcase Rankin at his sharpest and wittiest, with a good storyline for a change and his usual mannerisms unusually entertaining and funny. Familiarly it all culminated in an almighty explosion, as it so often does in his novels, but even the ending was a fresh one now and somehow quite touching too.

THIS MONTHS’ ALBUM OF CHOICE:
I may have stated in previous blog entries that Genesis, to me, is The Most Important Band Ever. This is not true. Marillion has been, still is and will infinitely continue to be Above Everything and Beyond Comparison. I left them behind for 10 years in mid-90’s when they started coming up with albums I found appalling and empty of qualities I used to look for and find in their music. On 2004 they set everything straight again and restored my faith in them with a stunning “Marbles” double album. Unfortunately the follow-up to that album included only one song that I could honestly call brilliant. So with mixed feelings have I waited for their new release, again a double album, called “Happiness Is The Road”. And now it’s here, and for the first week it sounded like if the previous single album’s great tracks numbered one, this new double one’s great tracks are none. But I’ve given it time, patiently, playing it over and over and over again, for hours at a time, refusing to accept my at first enormous disappointment, and now I feel the album has found its’ place in my heart and time will show how well it can establish its’ position as a rightful owner of that place. “This Train Is My Life” is at the start of the album, and “Real Tears For Sale” finishes it. In between all kinds of things happen and emotions emerge, some of which would have been better left off the album. There should be strict regulations against making double albums because the weaker songs always, always drag down the overall quality of the album, no matter how brilliant the stronger songs might be.

Here’s a video for “Whatever Is Wrong With You”.

THIS WEEKS’ BOTTLES OF CHOICE:
Petit Bourgeois Sauvignon, white wine from France. This came recommended by a wine guide and if it wouldn’t have, I would probably never have thought to buy it. And would have missed out on an amazing and utterly adorable wine. Of course I then wouldn’t have been aware of any kind of loss on my part because technically there wouldn’t have been a loss. All the sauvignon blancs I’d tasted previously had been kind of so-so, even the French ones, but this one from Loire Valley changed everything. The first suspicious sip from the glass filled my mouth with a harmoniously delicate and fruity sensation of summer in liquid form and washed away all the scepticism in an instant. The wine complemented the food beautifully, and yet it overshadowed it too, to the point of wiping away the memory of what the actual food was, although it was only a week ago. No need to point out that the whole bottle was gulped down during the evening by me and The Loved One, who loved it as much as I did, and we went out and bought another bottle of this only a few days afterwards. Normally a bottle of white lasts for at least two days in our household, and never before have I rushed out to buy another bottle so quickly. This was up there with the best albarinos I’ve had, with a lower price and a much better availability in Finland. Definitely a favourite to recommend to anyone and to elevate the deflated spirits of late autumn by bringing a little summer into November.

Norton Barrel Select Cabernet Sauvignon, red wine from Argentina. As November clearly calls for extreme measures, this was opened on a particularly bleak Monday evening to brighten and enliven things for a bit, and it did just that, without leaving much of an impression. Cabernet seems to be an ideal choice for drinking in larger quantities (although this didn’t happen on this particularly bleak Monday evening). It tasted watered down and thin in an easy and uncomplicated way. I wouldn’t have two glasses of this but one glass served its’ purpose well enough. It was recommended by a wine guide too but clearly me, my mouth and the stars were in a position that prevented me from enjoying it more.

Laroche Chardonnay, white wine from France. Another wine guide recommendation but nowhere near the loveliness of Petit Bourgeois. It was ok with creamy chicken pasta but on its’ own a bit too fruity and full for my taste, with a hint of something probably indentified as apples. The Loved One liked this much more than I did. I’ve yet to taste a chardonnay that would impress me. We soldiered on and gulped down the whole bottle during the evening (as it was Friday evening) but it took some effort and I don’t see myself buying this again in a hurry. Actually I don’t see myself buying this again at all.