... was the title of a lecture I caught yesterday. The discussion was divergent and engaged. Thoughts of Aldous Huxley's concept of getting out of one's own way. Of Wayne Gretzky being able to skate, in sports writer's terms, not where the puck was, but where it was going to be. Of Steve Carel's character in Little Miss Sunshine, who, racing to the aid of his beloved niece, runs (Roger Ebert writes) like a man who has read about running, has seen the diagrams of people running, does understand that human beings run - but has never actually run before in his life. (See it - it's hilarious; the whole movie is wonderful.) The lecturer - Gabor Csepregi - who, I have to say, was also an Olympic-level athlete, qualifying for Canada's water polo teams in 1972 and 1976, and about which, I also have to say, it was pointed out that water polo was the first group sport admitted to the Olympic Games (1900) and was invented by bored British officers posted to warm climes who played on underwater wooden horses - amidst all this came the name of writer Stefan Zweig , whose popularity and readership has ebbed and flowed, but whose Twenty-Four Hours in the Life of A Woman remains on the literary radar.
(Image: S. Zweig in 1930, davidbolduwork.com.)
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