I have some lovely friends, I really do.
I was feeling very blue on Monday - run down from massive shortage of sleep over the weekend, sickening with a cold, vexed at the ongoing uncertainty of my various job 'prospects'. But when I got back from an afternoon shopping expedition, I found not one but two batches of very late 'Christmas' presents (redesignated as Chinese New Year presents, but late even for that - though never mind) waiting for me.
Books featured prominently in the offerings. The Harvster sent me Vanity Fair and Tom Jones. Excellent books, no doubt - but I realise now why I never got around to reading them when I was younger: 800 page doorstops, each of them! A daunting prospect. At the rate I read, they would probably keep me occupied for the whole year. And if I am going to take on something of that magnitude...... I think I might just have to get the long-deferred War And Peace out of the way first. And then, for a little needed light relief, I might re-read Tristram Shandy.
Mr (& Mrs) The Nags have sent me the similarly monolithic Against The Day by Thomas Pynchon (is this a conspiracy to stop me blogging?!).
However, they did take pity on me by also including in their care package a few much shorter volumes, including a witty treatise by French academic Pierre Bayard called How To Talk About Books You Haven't Read. I think I may start with that.
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