It’s been about a year since I wrote the post below, and I once again find myself locked in a tiny room running things for a play that is in a language I do not understand. While I don’t think I’ll get as much reading done as last year, I am about 100 pages away from finishing Marie Antoinette, so I think it only fitting to move on to No Country for Old Men next, especially since we have recently discovered (decided?) that it’s not entirely impossible that our Addie once belonged to Cormac McCarthy.
EDIT: I sat next to a man on the subway yesterday reading All the Pretty Horses. I wanted to high five him, and make him my buddy. [o/\o] But I didn’t.
(Addie’s a leaner. She thinks it’s as good as lying down.)
April 17, 2007.
- Lolita. One day I will re-read it and fully grasp just how genius Nabokov really is. This time around I was a little too worried about missing major plot elements.
- On Chesil Beach, by Ian McEwan. A quick, beautiful, wrenching read.
- Also the new Scaredy Squirrel, quickly, in the store. It’s amazing.
Reading: The Road. I think. I have to get over the fact that I will feel slightly stupid on the subway if everyone is reading it at the same time. My other option is Marie Antoinette by Antonia Fraser.