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x_losI've begun to take a smidgen of pride in having virgin LJ interests. But seriously, after sitting through Searching for Bobby Fisher, how does no one else have "being a patzer" or even "patzers"?
I hate when you finish a book in less than a day, because the process of selecting a new book is so tedious and irritating. I finished Tess (I lubbed it), and then started Crocodile on the Sandbank, the first of the Amelia Peabody series of Victorian-Egyptian archeological mysteries, which I'd somehow skipped, but less than twenty-four hours later I was again bereft of sustenance. I was rooting through my un-reads, opened Unbearable Lightness of Being, saw that the first sentence had Nietzsche, and promptly chucked the book across the room. See what I have to put up with?
I'd forgotten how many books I'd started and partially finished this semester. They glare at me from my shelf, all neglected and love-lorn. Of Human Bondage was somewhat ponderous, Enemies, A Love Story was depressing when I didn't need it to me, with Illuminatis! I just got distracted, with Sophie's World I put it on my car and so it was lost to space if not time and I had to buy a new copy, The Blind Assassin is a gift and I have to finish it but I just can't, the list goes on.
Remarkable, in this slew of intention, in the tower of the undone, is what I did manage to read: a helluv a lot of plays. Ren Lit involved a lot of Master Shake and Ben Johnson, but on my own I sort of raped Chekov and Kushner and others, to some extent, for all they were worth. I don't want to read a play or long-verse thing for quite some time, no offense to the literary format but I'm just so tired; I needs me a novel.
I'm trying to finish Enemies, A Love Story at this point, but even though Singer's a good writer I may be suffering from "Oh my god, not another fucking Jewish book" syndrome, in the way that I was reading Les Miserables and then much too much Dumas in freshman year and was just ready to kill the French as a people by the end of it. I didn't intend to read Singer and Davita's Harp in the same span of time, I'd started Enemies, but then Davita's was just $1.00, and how could I say no?
And near the end, when I was getting really sick of Potok's sanguine treatment of orthodoxy, the "Omg Judaism r0xsors" of it all, the book pulls this clever 180 wherein the title character does get screwed over by what is essentially a sexist system, where her pillar of strength turns out to be as hypocritical and nasty as her mother's communist party, and that really redeems the novel from its propagandistic overtones. And her step-brother wants to fuck her, which messes with the idyll Jewish home life her mother takes refuge in and Davita's been so starry-eyed about. In short, not a bad book.
So yeah, Therese and I are going illegally skinny-dipping in the Resivoir any nice, warm day.
I hate when you finish a book in less than a day, because the process of selecting a new book is so tedious and irritating. I finished Tess (I lubbed it), and then started Crocodile on the Sandbank, the first of the Amelia Peabody series of Victorian-Egyptian archeological mysteries, which I'd somehow skipped, but less than twenty-four hours later I was again bereft of sustenance. I was rooting through my un-reads, opened Unbearable Lightness of Being, saw that the first sentence had Nietzsche, and promptly chucked the book across the room. See what I have to put up with?
I'd forgotten how many books I'd started and partially finished this semester. They glare at me from my shelf, all neglected and love-lorn. Of Human Bondage was somewhat ponderous, Enemies, A Love Story was depressing when I didn't need it to me, with Illuminatis! I just got distracted, with Sophie's World I put it on my car and so it was lost to space if not time and I had to buy a new copy, The Blind Assassin is a gift and I have to finish it but I just can't, the list goes on.
Remarkable, in this slew of intention, in the tower of the undone, is what I did manage to read: a helluv a lot of plays. Ren Lit involved a lot of Master Shake and Ben Johnson, but on my own I sort of raped Chekov and Kushner and others, to some extent, for all they were worth. I don't want to read a play or long-verse thing for quite some time, no offense to the literary format but I'm just so tired; I needs me a novel.
I'm trying to finish Enemies, A Love Story at this point, but even though Singer's a good writer I may be suffering from "Oh my god, not another fucking Jewish book" syndrome, in the way that I was reading Les Miserables and then much too much Dumas in freshman year and was just ready to kill the French as a people by the end of it. I didn't intend to read Singer and Davita's Harp in the same span of time, I'd started Enemies, but then Davita's was just $1.00, and how could I say no?
And near the end, when I was getting really sick of Potok's sanguine treatment of orthodoxy, the "Omg Judaism r0xsors" of it all, the book pulls this clever 180 wherein the title character does get screwed over by what is essentially a sexist system, where her pillar of strength turns out to be as hypocritical and nasty as her mother's communist party, and that really redeems the novel from its propagandistic overtones. And her step-brother wants to fuck her, which messes with the idyll Jewish home life her mother takes refuge in and Davita's been so starry-eyed about. In short, not a bad book.
So yeah, Therese and I are going illegally skinny-dipping in the Resivoir any nice, warm day.
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no subject
Date: 2005-05-24 04:08 pm (UTC)b) I have the book-in-a-day thing happen to me all the time, so I usually have a heirarchy of books in my head so I'm prepared.
c) I can't believe you're going skinny dipping without meeeeee!!! OMG!!! *dies*
no subject
Date: 2005-05-24 07:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-24 05:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-24 07:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-24 11:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-25 12:41 pm (UTC)