Sunday, October 27, 2013

Sorry not to have posted recently, I've been so busy reading.  Was entirely caught up in MaddAddam by Margaret Atwood, which so excellently concludes her brilliant trilogy begun with Oryx and Crake and continued in The Year of the Flood.  I think that everyone should read these books, especially my brother and his wife. :)  I have a brilliant older lady crush on Margaret Atwood now, and am soon to read Surfacing because I just can't get enough.

I've also picked up On Beauty, by Zadie Smith, that I'm reading at lunch break.  This I'm enjoying, and am finding to be quite interesting with its memorable characters and pleasing settings.  It helps that my brother's wife approves, since she is my literary hero.  It's so funny that I had been thinking of the book, and she mentioned that she had liked it, so I started reading it and have been enjoying.  I especially like the overlap of the settings of London and New England.

However, the most exciting thing that I'm reading right now is Night and Day, by Virginia Woolf.  It is of just enough age as to be written with such lovely care, so that I am ever so slowly and delightfully enjoying it.  It's kind of a relief to be certain of women's suffrage while reading it, and this makes the future seem much less bleak with all of its troubles that Atwood so tenderly observes in her books.  At least I know that women do get the vote while reading Woolf, which gives me hope for the healing of social issues.

What has made all of these books so nice is the promise of love, that always improves everything.  Maybe this is the enduring quality of human writers, after all.  Love and hope.  Yeah, so I hope that there won't be any unseemly endings to the novels I have not yet finished, but I think I'll be okay because all of these books are so beautifully written, and maybe that's the thrill of the journey.  And that ever present cup of tea!

Friday, October 4, 2013

Finished The Woman Upstairs by Claire Messud.  I did enjoy it, but see how it might just address the particular audience of childless women who like to make art, particularly if the artistic output is frustrated by living life, or not living life as had been hoped.  The relationships described in the story could be a little creepy, but not half as bad as much current literature or celebrity news.  Might try the author again, but

Just finished yesterday, The Woman Upstairs by Claire Messud.  I did enjoy it, though probably this book appeals only to a particular audience, that of the childless female not-working-as-an-artist type.  At least there wasn't some awful killing at the end, or such madness.

Now I'm possibly reading Virginia Woolf, Night and Day, if I do get a chance.  Have been enjoying the sentence construction, though have not gotten very far yet.  My return to reading has been populated with more contemporary stuff, so I'm not used to the lovely writing as much.  I think I will start reading older stuff for while.

In any case, Messud's book did make me recognize and realize that I ought to at least try making some art.  I'm so lazy, though, and overcome with housecleaning.  Actually, I have faith that I'll make at least one Christmas present.  It's only October!