I saw my friend Danny in late December. We traipsed through the woods and gossiped, caught up, discussed work we have in common. At no point did he mention bananas or eat a banana, which was strange because Danny’s always eating a banana, he loves bananas, often when I think of bananas, I think of him.
Bananas are perfectly peculiar. What appeals to me are the traits they share with eggs: uniquely shaped, self-contained; puzzling the first time, simple ever after. I don’t eat bananas often, they’re too sweet, but the flavor is so singular, unlike anything else, really, it’s hard to compare them to other fruits so much as other foods.
Sometimes I fantasize about food. It’s not about craving something to eat so much as the solace of an ideal. A perfect tray of nachos. A ham sandwich. The breakfast that puts me to sleep. But fantasy and craving get confused, I think, and craving is different, craving is darker, it can have no satisfaction. For me it’s cigarettes. I’m powerless against them. I don’t smoke anymore but I want one anytime I see someone smoking. Watching someone smoke in a movie is a dream I no longer get to dream for myself.
But favorites stay favorites for a reason. I asked Danny this week about him and bananas. “I don’t know if there is a why,” he said. “It’s complicated. They come in their own wrapping, which is easy to peel, but they bruise so easily. When they’re perfectly ripened, they taste like dessert all on their own. But even the slightest bit off and a banana can taste like cardboard. And here I’m talking about the Cavendish banana, the most popular banana in the world, and the one with the least personality.” He added a moment later, “The history of the banana is encumbered by colonialism, slavery, and death. And the fact that every Cavendish banana is essentially a clone of every other Cavendish banana is a chilling idea, semi-horrific. And yet I love them.”
Danny is a novelist. Among his books he’s best known for Big Fish, which became the movie by Tim Burton and later a Broadway musical. But he’s a person of many talents, including drawings, and he sent me this:
You can find Danny’s drawings on Instagram.
From tomorrow’s “Sunday Supplement” – my Sunday bulletin for supporters with three-plus things to love – some recommendations for Texas acoustic guitar, Texas nonfiction filmmaking, and Mexican marine life to calm the soul.
An early Texas Monthly profile said he wrote the sounds of the plains. My favorite album is “a desert-swept waltz,” according to NPR. All the albums are good, but there is one, for me, that’s the best place to start.
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“Meditations in an Emergency” is an email published Saturdays by novelist Rosecrans Baldwin about things he finds beautiful. “The Sunday Supplement” is his weekly recommendation bulletin of things recently loved, no paid-placements lol 💸
Rosecrans is the bestselling author of Everything Now: Lessons From the City-State of Los Angeles, available from Bookshop, Amazon, or your local store. If you’d like a signed copy for yourself or somebody else, reply to this newsletter or send an email, we’ll figure it out, happily.
Other books include The Last Kid Left and Paris, I Love You but You’re Bringing Me Down. His debut novel, You Lost Me There, was a New York Times Book Review Editors’ Choice. Any other books mentioned in this newsletter are featured on a Bookshop list.