Some theatre each day keeps the doctor away…

The Ultimate Novel

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I do not value short novels as highly as I do long ones.  It occurs to me that the ultimate novel would be one which was so long that you would forget the start by the time you’d finished reading to the end, and could therefore start reading once more without a break, and so on, and so on, ad infinitum.  This, of course, is an impossibility, for one can never truly forget a novel – or at least not the plot points.  The prose itself –  that can easily be forgotten, though.

Watched Bright Star again today, and liked it as much as the first time.  I wonder what my desert island movies would be.  I think if one were to play that game, then one should be allowed more than five movies (whereas you’re usually allowed five books, aren’t you?).  Because movies are shorter than books, you see…  (Though there is the slightly annoying problem of getting a television and a source of electricity to the island…)

52/879 in Van Gogh.  Considering buying myself the complete Sherlock Holmes, and I want to buy the Penguin edition, except I can only find the paperback and not the hardback, which is rather annoying.  (The hardback is unavailable everywhere, it seems.)  Perhaps I will just buy the paperback and be done with it.  But one wants to keep Sherlock Holmes to pass on to future generations, presumably.

Or maybe I’ll get the Wordsworth edition – I don’t think I’ve ever got one of those before.


Written by epistemysics

September 14, 2012 at 2:44 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

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