Some theatre each day keeps the doctor away…

Cassandra Wilson

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Saw Cassandra Wilson tonight at the Opera House.  Never heard of her before, but she was entertaining enough.

Finished Proust 5 today.  Talk about a cliffhanger!  (And I’m guessing –  indeed, I don’t think the character of the narrator could really react any other way – that, even though he got what he wanted, the fact that he got it the opposite way he intended to will mean that he won’t enjoy it, won’t accept it, and will do everything to stop it.  That’s my prediction, anyway.)

Started reading Freedom by Jonathan Franzen tonight.  I think I shall try to read it as quick as possible, too, because it has his autograph in it.  (And I’ll read it as carefully as possible – I’ll leave the lax spine treatment for a non-autographed book, methinks.)  83/597 in it.

You know what the difference is between Jonathan Franzen and David Foster Wallace?  (Well, there are many differences, but I am thinking of just one.)  It’s that Franzen requires no work to read.  I don’t say that as an insult, though, but the implication that I’m only partially willing to admit to is that David Foster Wallace is better because he requires work from the reader.  (Franzen and Wallace were quite good friends/rivals, hence the perhaps seemingly random comparison.)

Then again, Dickens would have required precisely the same amount of work, back in his day, as Franzen does of us now.  Hmm.  That throws a wrench under the bench.


Written by epistemysics

June 15, 2013 at 4:29 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

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