Now that my anger at France and Zidane has dissolved into sadness and disappointment I can move on. I've decided that this will be an all 20th Century literary summer. So far the books I've read have all been recent-ish, but not too recent to be 21st Century:
Lady Oracle by Margaret Atwood
The Secret History by Donna Tartt
Thank You For Smoking by Christopher Buckley
and now On the Road by Jack "call-me-Sal-Paradise" Kerouac
I'm going to pass up the stacks of Dumas (fils and pere), George Meredith (there's still one I haven't read yet), and anything beyond 2001, and just stick to the last century of fine fiction. This still leaves me Faulkner and Sherwood Anderson, as well as a couple of other Margaret Atwoods ... although maybe I should have a no-duplication policy to keep favoritism out of it. We'll see. Sadly, the no-21st Century rule leaves out the novelization of "Lost" that mom gave me at Christmas:
Sayid deftly ducked a punch and then landed a vicious jab to Sawyer's solar plexus ... The two of them hit the ground hard, still doing their best to pummel each other.
When will they learn to get along?
Sunday, July 09, 2006
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2 comments:
I finally was able to get into your blog. It's very interesting.
Interesting good? Or interesting bad? (Funny ha-ha? Or funny peculiar?)
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