Immortal literature
Nothing much going on lately to inspire posting here, I'm afraid. It's been some three weeks though, since my last, so I feel compelled to write something. I'm losing more hours at work. My illustration deadline is coming up in about a month, it's safe to say that I'm behind schedule. I'm restless lately, but without any outlet, so that's frustrating. I've been reading a lot recently, so that's nice. I'll bore you with a breakdown of what I've read since late January:
Stardust, by Neil Gaiman-- Entertaining in an overthought-fairy-tale kind of way. I probably would have enjoyed it more except that I've already academically explored the import and archetypal significance of fairy tales, so I wasn't all that impressed.
Anansi Boys, by Neil Gaiman-- This one seemed much less forced and I thoroughly enjoyed it. For anyone so unfortunate as to have hitherto missed Gaiman's works... you're not doing yourself any favors, start reading now. Hugely funny and suprisingly thoughtful.
The Twilight Saga (being Twilight, New Moon, Eclipse, and Breaking Dawn), by Stephanie Meyer-- I won't pretend to understand the hype. As with most teen literature it's a little addicting in the it's-like-a-soap-opera-with-a-few-saving-graces-way. The first person narration wasn't annoying, which was a true surprise, and it's actually a fairly well-composed, and impressively mature, series. There's also a great deal to have a laugh at, though I'm not sure I could always say whether the humor is intended or not. The series as a whole, while enjoyable, put me into a bit of a depression on the matter of immortality. More especially, on the fact that I will, probably, die eventually. I'd rather not.
Wuthering Heights, by Emily Bronte-- I read it back in high school, of course, but it was a device for some character exposition in one or two of the Twilight books (such a welcome change from the much-abused Romeo & Juliet theme), so I was curious to revisit it. I enjoyed it more this time and I think I got more from it. Most notably the observation that, despite the inherently (not to mention indisputably and incontrovertibly) bad nature of most of the characters, the story has a happy ending. For some reason that's not something that I really took away from it after my first reading. (If I seem overly wordy, prolix even, it's because I just finished reading it and I really enjoy the language of this period. Sorry).
I seem to be in a mood for the gothics now, so I'm going to reread Jane Eyre and The Professor (both by Charlotte Bronte, of course) next, and then see if I can't get my hands on a copy of Agnes Gray (Anne Bronte's novel). Then I really need to make an effort to read something of Jane Austen's, if only because I never have. And I'll probably reread The Picture of Dorian Gray (one of my favorite books) and maybe one or two other stories by Oscar Wilde. Then I'll probably find some more Neil Gaiman, or some Terry Pratchett perhaps, to lighten the mood.