Wednesday is now down to the 'forgotten & mysterious objects' phase of Project #ArchivistEnergy
What I read
Finished Pure Juliet, also, but not immediately following, re-read of The Yellow Houses, the other posthumously published Stella Gibbons. And perhaps one does see why they might not have been publishable at the time (simply because there is a feeling of disjuncture between her and the period in and of which she was writing), but they were worth adding to her oeuvre once she began coming back into interest beyond Cold Comfort Farm. And really, there are some works from earlier phases of her career when one has the sense that the Muse had the wrong number and sent the wrong plot-bunny....
Alison Lurie, Imaginary Friends (1967), the one about contemporary religious cult (with aliens) in what used to be The Burned-Over District, and two sociologists who go be participant observers, hi-jinx ensure... and I find it was actually dedicated to James Merrill and David Jackson, hmmmmmmm. Not sure this was entirely playing to Lurie's strengths and not one of my favourites of hers.
Elizabeth Hand, Fire (2016) - a collection of short stories, an extended essay on Tiptree/Sheldon, an interview, a memoir essay. Sometimes Hand does it for me and sometimes not and while some of this was of interest, not really ringing my bell.
Finally finished Parnassus on Wheels, just to have it finished. I mean, I am all over late-blooming romance between unlikely characters, but I still found the generally folksy-tweeness Not My Thing.
Re reads of Katherine Fabian and Iona Datt Sharma, Sing for the Coming of the Longest Night (2018) and Iona Datt Sharma, Division Bells (2020), because both of these were things on my 'to re-read' list.
On the go
Sarvat Hasin, The Giant Dark (2021), following a recommendation from A Friend on Twitter, which is well-done and keeping me interested even while suspecting that here was someone with a degree of some sort in Creative Writing, it is that sort of litfic. (Looking at the author bio on Goodreads, precisely.)
One of these days I shall get back to sad Mary Shelley.
Up next
I apprehend that if the intelligence on Kobo's site is correct, there is a new Cat Sebastian 'Page and Sommers' forthcoming this very weekend.
Also I have what I hope is actually a frothy thing that was on offer today downloaded - too often I look at the preview of something that purports to be a delicious bit of froth and go 'meh', but this looked promising.
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