“It's terrible to lose somebody," I said, "I mean, I don't know firsthand, but I can imagine it must be. But it's also true that some people never have anybody to lose, and I think that's got to be so much worse.”
I have done nothing productive today so I can either continue that trend and spend a long time writing about reading which seems unproductive or do a short-and-sweet note and then try to crank out something productive-feeling in the remaining hours of the afternoon.
I’m feeling short and sweet. I mean, I am short.
Remember how I went back to Gardens of the Moon by Steven Erikson after abandoning it for several weeks? Well, I finished it. And by the end I was pretty thoroughly confused about all the peoples and groups and factions and the plot, but I got enough of what was happening to enjoy the drama and trauma leading up to the resolution. That’s probably my fault. There’s too much going on in this book to read half and then forget about it and then pick it back up again.
“The curse of climbing is discovering how great the distance yet to climb.”
—Steven Erikson. Also me, discovering how many characters there were to keep track of.
However, I also know myself well enough to know that books which contain a helpful list of characters and family groups and species and mage-wars or whatnot are not reaaaaalllllyyyy my cup of tea.
And Erikson’s book contained a long list of such things. So. Oh well.
…to completely different kind of fiction: The Bean Trees by Barbara Kingsolver.
“The very least you can do in your life is to figure out what you hope for. The most you can do is live inside that hope, running down its hallways, touching the walls on both sides.”
Good. Not as good as The Poisonwood Bible but good.
That’s it. I’m done now.