Read Ten Tributes to Calvino for Free Online

trial basis only. It’s a Damascene blade, very finely tempered. Did it meet expectations? The trial period has just ended, and unless you return the item, you must pay in full.”
    The moon reflects the light of the sun; and the pub window reflects the light of the moon; and the stiletto held in the leather glove of the assassin reflects the light of the pub window.
    “But I haven’t had time to use it yet!”
    A hooded figure hisses from the nearby shadow of a tall tree, “Hurry up! Hurry! Get the job done quick!”
    The assassin snorts, “Everything’s under control.” And he reaches into his pocket for the coin it contains. He cuts this coin in half with the blade and gives a piece to each merchant.
    And on the far side of the world, the sun frowns and gasps, “Suddenly I feel like an amoeba. How curious!”
     
    CONFUSIONS OF THE SUN
     
    There are particular metaphysical problems that bother the sun from time to time. Although he turns these problems over and over in his own mind, he doesn’t ask anyone for advice about them. He’s afraid of looking like a fool and being mocked by sages.
    So when he passes over philosophers and other wise fellows he calls a brisk, “Hello there!” and dashes behind the nearest cloud; or if there aren’t any clouds in the vicinity, he makes other kinds of small talk, about sport, politics or taxes, maybe, but never about the weather, because he dislikes giving away all his trade secrets.
    He enjoys shining on Buddhists, but there’s a paradox in one of their beliefs that he can’t get to grips with. If you are a person who believes in reincarnation, surely it makes sense to work hard to improve the general condition of the world, so that living standards rise for everyone? This way you can be certain of improved comfort in your next life, no matter where you are born! In other words, if you are very holy you need only care for yourself in this life; but if you are sinful it’s in your own interest to be good and improve the world. So good people should act in a selfish manner and bad people selflessly…
    The sun isn’t ready to convert to this faith yet.
     
    BAKING HOT DAY
     
    Intrigued by his contact with Rustichello, the sun decided to pay a visit to Pisa, the town of the taleteller’s birth. He saw that a cunning arrangement of concave mirrors had been set up on the roof of a house. “What’s going on down there?” he mused aloud.
    “This is a solar oven,” answered a stout woman.
    “You expect me to slave in a kitchen for you? No chance! I work only for myself; all stars are aristocrats!”
    The woman laughed. “You have been my employee ever since you got here! Don’t you know your beams are bouncing off these mirrors onto the baking tray inside my brick oven?”
    “Am I baking a loaf of bread for you, then?”
    “Not bread, no; the flour contains honey and raisins and apricots, and I used wine instead of water to mix it.”
    Much later, the moon asked the sun, “I heard you did your share of the cooking today. Was it difficult?”
    “Nah,” replied the sun. “Pisa cake.”
     
    CREATIVITY IN THE WILDERNESS
     
    I want to be serious just for a few moments and talk a little on the subject of Creativity in the Wilderness. The fact is that I need the sun to facilitate the proper exercise of my imagination.
    I don’t mean that I don’t get ideas in the wintertime – some of my best work (if any of it is actually good) has been done in low temperatures, but never through choice. When it’s dark and chill I wish to hibernate, and so forcing myself to work is a perverse form of retirement, of hiding myself away from the cold sky: a way of taking my mind off the gloomy present moment. But this doesn’t work well…
    When I’m cold all my muscles contract and I feel hunched and stooped like an old man; I lack only a corncob pipe, hobble and liver spots. I can’t wait to be warm again, to uncurl and unfurl and to live the outdoors life. I take my empty