On Saturday evening I attended a terrific New York Philharmonic concert -- Brahms violin concerto (Pinchas Zukerman, soloist), and Brahms's Symphony No. 4. My concert-going buddy, "S," has been an influential fund-raiser in the music world and so at the intermission I was lucky enough to go backstage with her and met Mr. Zukerman, at which point I became paralyzed with shyness. Fortunately, "S" chattered away happily with "Pinky" (yes, seriously) so my jejune reaction went unnoticed.
As I am still not quite 100% (in truth, not even 80%) after my recent bout with bronchitis, I spent most of Sunday quietly at home bracing for the upcoming work week. I expended an embarrassing amount of time watching back-to-back episodes of the second season of In Treatment on HBO. This is the half-hour program that stars Gabriel Byrne as psychologist Dr. Paul Weston, and takes place almost entirely in his office. Each daily episode is devoted to a session with one of his patients, with the fifth episode each week featuring Dr. Weston's session with his own therapist, played by Dianne Wiest. It's absorbing and sophisticated drama, and I highly recommend it. The third season begins on October 25th. And my interest in this series has nothing whatsoever to do with the rather attractive Mr. Byrne. Nope. Not at all.
And what of reading? This is, after all, BookishNYC: I've finished The Finkler Question -- morosely hilarious, if that makes any sense. I've just started The Lawyer's Secret, a Victorian-era "sensation" novel by Mary Elizabeth Braddon. First published in the early 1860s, it tells the story of Ellinor Arden, an orphan who is named heiress of her estranged uncle's fortune, provided she marry his adopted son. Surprise, surprise: it doesn't turn out well.