I've finished
American Gods and
The Importance of Being Earnest this week. Both are wonderful books, although quite different, and not just in terms of form. Neil Gaiman weaves a deliciously intricate plot about gods and mystery and love that is just stunning. It's a large book for a large subject, but the length doesn't detract or spoil the book in any way. In fact, one rather finds oneself wishing that it would never end because the world he creates is just so completely fantastic.
The Importance of Being Earnest is as ridiculous as American Gods is fantastic. Its frivolous and silly, and it makes fun of its characters in a manner that is beautiful to behold. It is very Wilde; I'm sure there is no one else in the world whose pen it could have come from.
That was impressively pompous. Learning French has made me view the use of 'one' as a pronoun (personal or otherwise) in a far more favourable light.
So, the rest of the books I have been reading this week
On Saturday, I started reading The Republic by Plato. I'm still at the intro, but I'm enjoying it. The translation I have is easy to read, with clear footnotes that ensure the meaning of the original text is not lost.
I have also restarted reading The Hundred Secret Senses by Amy Tan. I adore her writing style. It reminds me, in the way that it alternates between our world and a dream world that seems to be the past, of The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy. Tan's writing style is humorous yet slightly heavy. You feel the weight of the issues and emotions of Olivia, who narrates, but you can get past her mortification enough to chuckle at Kwan, who makes the best of every situation.
I'm pushing my way through chapter thirteen of The Picture of Dorian Gray. Pushing is very necessary, it is without contest the dullest and most needless chapter of the book, for the most part, but I see the light at the end of the tunnel and I'm using the hope it gives to guide me through. I've already read the end, a while back, when I despaired of ever being able to get past chapter thirteen. I'm looking forward to reading the entire book in the order it appears, with the middle, middle and the last, last.
I'm rereading Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen, along with a collection of her Juvenilia. It is incredible to see the similarities and differences between her earlier writings and her later- the way her subjects are treated (she always satires, but her mockery is more subtle in her later works and therefore less ridiculous). It's quite nice to watch her grow- I feel almost like a proud mother, or her mentor :')
I have also started reading In Rememberance of Times Past (A la Recherche du Temps Perdu/In Search of Lost Time) by Marcel Proust. Well, when I say started, I mean I know what the title of the first part is, and it's very possible I have started reading the first sentence. I mean, it's Proust. I'm pretty sure carrying it your bag counts as starting it. Opening it marks you as literary elite. (Those who have actually read it are the ruling classes. Those who have read all of it -past Volume I!- are priceless gems who should be sought out and cut as such.)
I intend to finish at least another two of these this week, as well as to start Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier, The Joy Luck Club by Amy Tan and Madame Bovary by Gustav Flaubert- in both French and English.
In other news, I am trying to teach myself Russian.
I'm doing this, for now, through poetry.
225 by Osip Mandelshtam and that poem by Boris Pasternak that appears nameless but begins 'February. Get ink shed tears...'
Soviet Russia. Cheerful as ever.
I'm learning the alphabet first, pronunciation etc. I think it's be easier that way.
So.
Happy blogging and happier reading!
This has been a literary post
Lots of love (and admiration for those who've made it through- for a while I wasn't even sure if I would make it!)
Little Newman
xxx
