February Grays

Blues would be an improvement.

I’m more pissed off than depressed actually. A kind of seemingly permanent desire to tell everything & everyone to fuck off.

Suppose it’s a variant on the usual black bird hanging around my neck.

But see! I have read two great fat Dickensian novels already this year! Loved them both. The Luminaries got pretty self-indulgent toward the end (let’s wrap this up with In Which …) and I swear the minute I put it down I couldn’t have told you the provenance of  the gold. But I remember the name of the mine–Aurora. And the small, yet significant, thread of magical realism was interesting and an indication to me of just how much a writer can get away with if they have a literary reputation.

The Goldfinch was also riveting and diverting–hard to read at times. Echoes of Holden Cauldfield and pitch perfect New York City. Also got self-indulgent in places, especially right at the end. But most of it was just wonderful.

Strange, adding the two covers, I see how much they are alike. Wonder if they were designed by the same person.

2014 Reading List:

6. Moonkind, Sarah Prineas
5. The Goldfinch, Donna Tart
4. The Golden Day, Ursala Dubosarsky
2-3. The Haunted Hotel, The Queen of Hearts, Wilkie Collins
1. The Luminaries, Eleanor Catton

2 thoughts on “February Grays

  1. I thought Catton was intermittently self-indulgent throughout Luminaries — it was just that – until those wrap-it-up-FAST chapters, I didn't care. There was so much that was wonderful about the book. Should I read The Goldfinch?

    AH! Just found this… Am posting after all…


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