For the longest time now I’ve been meaning to add the incomparable Coudal Partners website to our blogroll, and tonight I’ve finally done so. The site came to my attention back in February, when Nathalie did a stint as a guest editor there, and it has increasingly become my failsafe destination when I simply must find strong distraction from whatever it is I’m supposed to be doing–for those desperate times when hockey box scores just won’t cut it. Coudal’s Fresh Signals (right-hand column) haven’t failed me yet. I read stuff on the web all day, but here you can always find something to look at. Among the freshest at the moment, I particularly recommend 10 worst album covers of all time and the sequel, More album covers. Last one, I swear, as well as The world’s flags given letter grades.

Ah hell, now that I’ve linked to a flag report card I may as well throw in the too-cute Kitty Cat Dance movie I’ve been sending to everyone I know lately. The title says it all, so you can steer clear if kitty cat dances aren’t your cup of tea, and don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’m afraid they’re mine. Thanks to Steve for this one.

“For two centuries, Siberia had had a reputation for being the freest place in the Empire, this open-air nuthouse where being a third-generation prisoner made you aristocracy. You could see the difference, the (comparative) fearlessness in people’s bearing: Gwen had met the descendant of a Decembrist who was married to the great-great-granddaughter of Poles deported here after the 1848 uprising, and it seemed to her that no beltway politician, no Boston Brahmin could ever match the arrogance of this couple whose families had been on the wrong side of power for a hundred and fifty years. What can you do to us, the joke ran, we’re already in Siberia.”

Fernanda Eberstadt, The Furies

(Yes, this does mean I finally finished Shirley Hazzard! The Transit of Venus will be the subject of one more gushy post. Any day now.)

“It is the line of least resistance, and there is no denying that in daily life it has its advantages. But all the more must we insist that it plays the most deadly role in music, especially in the performance of old and familiar works. In fact, routine with its loveless mediocrity and its treacherous perfection lies like hoarfrost on the performance of the most beautiful and best-known works.”

Wilhelm Furtw

I spent ten hours editing the Balanchine book today, then printed it out. I’m all done. I’ll be delivering it to Harcourt on Wednesday. I’ve never been so tired, and I still have those four pieces left to write (two of them tomorrow), but I’m done.

Thanks again for your forbearance, which I hope will last a little while longer while I finish cleaning my plate. Then I’ll start blogging again, and reading other blogs, too, something I’ve missed terribly in the past couple of weeks.

I look forward to serving you again!

Stunned by overwork, I made the mistake of peeking into my mailbox, where I found a hundred or so accumulated pieces of e-mail. Most of it was spam, of course, but I learned from quite a few of you that amazon.com just started shipping A Terry Teachout Reader, well in advance of the official publication date.

How about that? I’m published!

If you ordered the Teachout Reader in advance, your copy has either just arrived or is on its way to you. If you haven’t ordered it yet, go here and do so.

In addition, I got quite a bit of nice mail on various subjects (all of it answered–thanks very much).

I also got a rare piece of hate mail, which tickled me enough to pass on:

The main things that are unpleasant about your WSJ column are that you are relentlessly determined to show us how smart you are (not an elegant trait) and your poor white trash name (definitely not elegant).

In the immortal words of Bugs Bunny, “Ah, me public!”

And now…back to overwork. See you tomorrow.

“‘Would you like a sandwich?’ she asked, offering a dejected-looking plate.”

Barbara Pym, Jane and Prudence

I just finished the first draft of the Balanchine book. “First draft” is something of a misnomer, actually, since this draft is substantially polished. I’ll need another six or eight hours’ worth of close line-editing and sprinkling on a few pinches of magic dust, and then it’ll be ready to ship off to the publisher.

More as it happens, but now I need to get some sleep and start writing those other pieces, yikes!

In the meantime…yes, I’m happy. And relieved.

See you later today or, more likely, tomorrow.

Still crazy-busy over here, but I wanted to throw out this tidbit from James Wood’s latest New Republic review, a polite but firm taking-apart of John Le Carr