One August day, a baby was born, or as it seemed to Rivka Galchen, a puma moved into her house. Her arrival felt supernatural, she seemed to come from another world. And suddenly, the world appeared ludicrously, suspiciously, adverbially sodden with meaning. Galchen didn’t desire to compose about the puma. She had actually never been interested in infants, or in mothers prior to. Now everything appeared directly related to them and she specifically wished to blog about other things because it might mean she was truly, covertly, discovering something about children, or about being near infants. The result is Little Labours, a slanted captivated miscellany. Galchen discusses infants in art (with wrongly shaped head) and babies in literature (rarer than canines or abortions, often monstrous); about the effort of taking a passport picture for a baby not yet able to hold up her head and the frightening frequency of orange as today’s elegant colour for baby gifts; about Frankenstein as a sort of baby and a child as a sort of Godzillas. In doing so she opens an odd and tender world of wonder.
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Friday, June 26, 2020
Little Labours
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