Is It the Books or Is It Me?
After suffering through Housekeeping, The Golden Notebook and The Line of Beauty, I returned to what I thought would be entertaining literary fiction with Geraldine Brooks' March and now Orhan Pahmuk's Snow. But I'm unimpressed, and, most importantly, unengaged. Hmmm, remember when you were a kid and you fantasized about moving to some place exotic like Bulgaria? Well, Snow takes place in Turkey and the politics and place names of this exotic locale for Snow is bringing me down, Nobel for Pahmuk or not. Hell, I might as well be reading about Cormac McCarthy's Texas! Between the Political Islamicists and the Coup-launching Army and the Ankara Republicans, I can't figure which side to be on, to root for, to care for. . .
No wonder I'm feeling tempted to read the complete works of Jane Austen, and see if I "get" Emma as I didn't when I was 19. Oh, but that's "chick-lit." It's charming, too.
Maybe I'm just tired (leaving Ashburn or Manorville at 5:30 a.m. weekly will do that to you) or maybe I'm just wired from watching the complete "Wire." Brother seemed to like getting his birthday gift, even if it wasn't a sweat-stained Roy Hibbert-numbered Georgetown jersey or two dozen crab cakes from Timbuktu of Timonium. "Always give locally" is what I say, though I'm not going to go out and buy and guns from Virginia.
No wonder I'm feeling tempted to read the complete works of Jane Austen, and see if I "get" Emma as I didn't when I was 19. Oh, but that's "chick-lit." It's charming, too.
Maybe I'm just tired (leaving Ashburn or Manorville at 5:30 a.m. weekly will do that to you) or maybe I'm just wired from watching the complete "Wire." Brother seemed to like getting his birthday gift, even if it wasn't a sweat-stained Roy Hibbert-numbered Georgetown jersey or two dozen crab cakes from Timbuktu of Timonium. "Always give locally" is what I say, though I'm not going to go out and buy and guns from Virginia.