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Wednesday What Are You Reading
Jan. 22nd, 2014 04:45 pmCurrently reading
I have at long last embarked upon Les Miserables (Victor Hugo). (Tony and I are passing the months of enforced separation in reading each other's favourite French novel. I visited him this weekend and was spurred into action by the sight of a bookmark somewhere near page 10 of The Count of Monte Cristo.) I'm three chapters in so far, which is not really far enough to say anything about it. It'll be a long, slow read, as it's too bulky to take on the train.
Poems, St John of the Cross, trans. Roy Campbell. Gorgeous. Just gorgeous. My Spanish is not really up to it, but I am tending to read a verse of the original, check it against the translation, rinse and repeat until the end of the poem, and then go back and read the whole thing.
Guards! Guards! (Terry Pratchett). I'm reading my way, very slowly, through all of Discworld (all the books belong to Tony and are therefore in Cambridge, so I'm managing one or two a month. No, I haven't read Raising Steam yet.) Dragons!
Recently finished
Strumpet City (James Plunkett) - for HQ book club. Dublin, 1907-1912 or so. I enjoyed this, though there was an awful lot of guilt and misery. All life is here, my goodness.
The Tenant of Wildfell Hall (Anne Brontë); first one of hers I've ever read. Needed something sensible and rational to read on the train to Cambridge on Friday. I didn't end up reading much of it until Saturday, but it did the trick, and I was very tiresome and wouldn't go to the pub until I'd finished it.
Pyramids (Terry Pratchett) - see above.
On the Road (Jack Kerouac) - for Guildford book club. Unexpectedly got me right in the id. Combination of desire to be on the way to somewhere, nostalgia for places I'd never been, and sense of vague embarrassment very reminiscent of late nights with parents, godparents, other bus crew. Also nice to find someone who over-uses 'great' and 'golden' as much as I do.
Neither Here Nor There (Bill Bryson) did not compare well. I seem to have gone off Bryson; he's not at his best when not in English-speaking countries, and also this one is showing its age.
Up next
Impossible Saints (Michèle Roberts) - which will probably annoy me no end, as it seems to be based-but-not-based on Teresa of Ávila, in the usual Roberts style (why?) - but will probably be worth it. I have Spain on the brain at the moment.
Other media
Mandela: Long Walk To Freedom - rather superficial, which I suppose was only to be expected.
The Musketeers - really, there was no way I wasn't going to love this, was there?
The Bridge - will take a lot of catching up on, but will be worth it.
I have at long last embarked upon Les Miserables (Victor Hugo). (Tony and I are passing the months of enforced separation in reading each other's favourite French novel. I visited him this weekend and was spurred into action by the sight of a bookmark somewhere near page 10 of The Count of Monte Cristo.) I'm three chapters in so far, which is not really far enough to say anything about it. It'll be a long, slow read, as it's too bulky to take on the train.
Poems, St John of the Cross, trans. Roy Campbell. Gorgeous. Just gorgeous. My Spanish is not really up to it, but I am tending to read a verse of the original, check it against the translation, rinse and repeat until the end of the poem, and then go back and read the whole thing.
Guards! Guards! (Terry Pratchett). I'm reading my way, very slowly, through all of Discworld (all the books belong to Tony and are therefore in Cambridge, so I'm managing one or two a month. No, I haven't read Raising Steam yet.) Dragons!
Recently finished
Strumpet City (James Plunkett) - for HQ book club. Dublin, 1907-1912 or so. I enjoyed this, though there was an awful lot of guilt and misery. All life is here, my goodness.
The Tenant of Wildfell Hall (Anne Brontë); first one of hers I've ever read. Needed something sensible and rational to read on the train to Cambridge on Friday. I didn't end up reading much of it until Saturday, but it did the trick, and I was very tiresome and wouldn't go to the pub until I'd finished it.
Pyramids (Terry Pratchett) - see above.
On the Road (Jack Kerouac) - for Guildford book club. Unexpectedly got me right in the id. Combination of desire to be on the way to somewhere, nostalgia for places I'd never been, and sense of vague embarrassment very reminiscent of late nights with parents, godparents, other bus crew. Also nice to find someone who over-uses 'great' and 'golden' as much as I do.
Neither Here Nor There (Bill Bryson) did not compare well. I seem to have gone off Bryson; he's not at his best when not in English-speaking countries, and also this one is showing its age.
Up next
Impossible Saints (Michèle Roberts) - which will probably annoy me no end, as it seems to be based-but-not-based on Teresa of Ávila, in the usual Roberts style (why?) - but will probably be worth it. I have Spain on the brain at the moment.
Other media
Mandela: Long Walk To Freedom - rather superficial, which I suppose was only to be expected.
The Musketeers - really, there was no way I wasn't going to love this, was there?
The Bridge - will take a lot of catching up on, but will be worth it.
