  I'm hungering for good literature.  It's nearing that time of year that I love,  that time just a few weeks into the semester at colleges when I can sneak into the bookstore,  pretending I'm a student,  and peruse the anthropology,  sociology,  and literature shelves.  I read the course names,  look for professors whose chosen texts I know I enjoy,  and buy up the books those students who just dropped the class returned.  But it's not that time yet,  so I'm left with this hunger!  That feeling is what lead me to peruse my own bookshelves,
 legion though they be in my little 950 square foot house.  I found a book I'd bought on just such an expedition at UHCL last fall,  but had overlooked until now.  It's two novellas published together:  Taratuta and Still Life with Pipe ,  by Jose Donoso.  In the intro to Taratuta,  Donoso writes:  " It seems to me that the novelistic in real life rarely turns out to be novelable:  in order to create an aesthetic world an author usually begins with quite modest facts:  the familiar trait of a known person,
 the half- open window of a bedroom in disarray,  a word with childhood resonances,  an expression that betrays the deceit of a father,  a priest,  a woman,  and it is the artist who chooses,  puts together,  and takes apart in order to construct the other truth,  the truth of deception.
