I finished my long overdue volume on Portuguese literature two days ago. And I've spend this time half taking rest, as far as I'm still able of such thing, half thinking about more books to come. There are still things overdue, but I try -- finally! -- to talk myself into writing them in English. That's such an obvious solution, and yet there is an inertia, there is something without a name that stops me.
Yes, I'm on the other side already, and very unwilling to come back to Warsaw. I'm really so sorry there is no Amsterdam waiting for me in September; all my problems were so near from being solved... But I'm fantasising that I could even spend this year somewhere in Africa, making field research and writing more books. This year, I mean, because I will apply for several things for 2019, the EURIAS fellowship as well as the ERC Advanced Grant. I've talked to a Horizon adviser and I see quite clearly how I should proceed with this. But this will stay a year processing.
More books... The idea got inside like a splinter, especially when I saw I did manage to make two of them. There is no such force as to prevent me from making a third one, and in English. I want to write down the very story that finished up by being rejected in Amsterdam. Make it real.
Total there are three or even four books to be considered. I should still finish one heavily overdue project on Saramago, but this seems quick and easy, and it will serve me as a trampoline again, for more daring things. The other one is that Amsterdam project, and the first part of the book is just this research on Adamic language I'm doing right now, so there is a strong reason to make it. And then another overdue project, the Intrusive Spirit, that gets a new lease of life when I saw all those handsome intellectuals here in France. And finally, there is a particularly nice and attractive project, the Book of the World, makings sense of all this planetary literature I've been travelling for: in Bissau, Casablanca, Kuala Lumpur, Caucasus, and many other places I've never been, but brought books... like Djibouti. I'm also reading a serious monograph on Afar literature right now. The French have a nice bundle of such things. Pity there is so little time left (well, it's not yet a half of my stay... but so little time left in proportion to what I would still like to do). But it is so clear I sink into this life and solve many internal problems. I start loving it more and more, even if it is a hard life, not even de sol a sol, but well beyond. I've been reading Emily Apter at 5 am and any other hour around the clock.
On the other hand, I've been looking to the permanent professorships offered in Vienna. One day I will have to get down to something like this. Perhaps after my ERC. This nomad life will have to have an end. Anyway, I think nothing will be like Warsaw again. Funny feeling, now with my 7 books, I'm really in front of most people there; but of course I don't expect they would stop calling me "pani Ewa" (that's a kind of semi-formal treatment in Polish, usually given to subaltern or technical staff). Even my Buryat PhD students never call me other thing. When they send me an email, they start with "Dear Pani Ewa"... It might be my destiny. Hopefully I don't stuck in Morocco one day, being called Lalla Hawaa...