I have lapsed into a summer of storms, nabokov, lana del rey, latin grammars and long nights of macaronic mediterranean converzatione. Ada or Ardor is a pleasure I have deferred; speculative fiction & sparkling prose. Every few pages there is a perfect sentence which I feel ought to be copied out onto propisi and properly savoured:
The windows of the black castle went out in rows, files, and knight moves.
Adada Ada or Ardor, да! “Ada” means island in Turkish, and I am lapping up literature on the littoral margin of one insular Cunda, beyond the geography of Antiterra. The “or” translates with a wonderful repetitiveness (almost better than the English): Ada ya da Arzu. Eliminating the first space makes it adaya da arzu, “ardor for the island, also,” appositely summing my sentiments. And as both Ada and Arzu are common girls’ names here, I’m sure even Nabokov would have been satisfied with the title’s connotativeness.