Wednesday, May 05, 2004
keep passing the open windows...
Since the advent of regular busing in my life, I've been reading a whole hell of a lot. It's one of the few things that public transportation definitely has over driving. The really nice thing is that I've been venturing out of my comfort genres of mysteries and thrillers and vampire books. I've even been reading what might be called "literary fiction". Me! Being all literate and shit! And really, really liking it! Whee! Some of the books might possibly termed "classics". *gasp*
So while sitting at the bus stop at Santa Monica and La Cienega this morning I read the last few paragraphs of The Hotel New Hampshire. It's the first time I've read anything by John Irving and I have to say: What the hell took me so long? I do believe I shall be checking out more of his books. Damn CuteNerdBoy for his confident and accurate prediction that I'd enjoy the book and, most likely, the author. I think that boy is really getting to know my reading tastes. Am I becoming predictable or what?
I also have to state that I may have to stop reading on public transportation. Reading heart-breakingly beautiful passages, such as the final ones in The Hotel New Hampshire, is a sure-fire way to bring tears to my eyes. And I just don't want to be crying on the bus.
Sorrow floats, indeed. And I promise to keep passing open windows.
So while sitting at the bus stop at Santa Monica and La Cienega this morning I read the last few paragraphs of The Hotel New Hampshire. It's the first time I've read anything by John Irving and I have to say: What the hell took me so long? I do believe I shall be checking out more of his books. Damn CuteNerdBoy for his confident and accurate prediction that I'd enjoy the book and, most likely, the author. I think that boy is really getting to know my reading tastes. Am I becoming predictable or what?
I also have to state that I may have to stop reading on public transportation. Reading heart-breakingly beautiful passages, such as the final ones in The Hotel New Hampshire, is a sure-fire way to bring tears to my eyes. And I just don't want to be crying on the bus.
Sorrow floats, indeed. And I promise to keep passing open windows.
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