abode of despair

erk, i finished reading the most depressing 'classic' book ever today, lx. the house of mirth, edith wharton. i thought it would be a social lesson of the times in that jane austen-ish way, but no. tragedy not without comedy but definitely without a happy ending. to quote jfranz, 'the heroine of House of Mirth, Lily Bart, is one of the great characters in American literature, a pretty and smart but impecunious New York society woman who can't quite pull the trigger on marrying for money. Wharton's love for Lily is equal to the cruelty that Wharton's story relentlessly inflicts on her; and so we recognize our entire selves in her.'

also i read the entire thing in ebook on my phone, which was terribly disconcerting, because when i reached the second last page i had no clue that it was the end! i literally spluttered out loud. it might as well have been chapter 4 of book II or that swirly bruise on jupiter, that's how much i've realised progression through a book's thickness means to me.

books books the musical

lvi. inferno, eileen myles
i need to read it again, a poet's novel is not really meant for reading quickly. that said, piss and fruit, shit.

lvii. death in the afternoon, ernest hemingway
i guess bill bryson possibly got his modus operandi from this book. technical details, aficionado stuff, random dialogue, bull fighting.

lviii. squirrel seeks chipmunk, david sedaris
aesop's fables of prejudice and bigotry, more like. pretty awesome. i wish they were more in-depth but maybe that would be impossible.

lix. a fraction of the whole, steve toltz
i was initially very hesitant about this book due to its immense size and therefore hopeless portability. but it was probably the fastest 700 pages i have ever read. rollicking plot. simple words. sure, a good australian novel, but perhaps not a booker prize shortlist.

nanowrimo fat fail

yeah, already given up. so far i have written 3083 words out of an expected 8333. so you can see how well that's going. i'll keep writing but i don't expect to reach the target. quantity over quality is bullshit and really screwing with my brain, i can't do it. plus why bother when there's this for inspiration:
http://www.salon.com/books/laura_miller/2010/11/02/nanowrimo/index.html

lvi. life and times of the thunderbolt kid, bill bryson. one-word review: ehh. memoirs by those who have not been fucked up are boring.

right this second i am peeved about trackwork on my line this weekend, when i have to work at 8.30am tomorrow, suck. does not help that i had a relatively but not catastrophically shit day at work, but i was due for one. things have gone swimmingly for too long, and i was just thinking yesterday that i hadn't had any problems in a while. bam, and the dirt is gone.