Epistemysics

Some theatre each day keeps the doctor away…

Confessions of a Romantic

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Saw Confessions of a Romantic with Selby & Friends tonight.  Good.  It finished rather early, only going for an hour and three quarters, and I had to choose whether to run for the train or not.  Usually I aim for the 9.21pm train for concerts that are meant to finish at 9pm, but tonight I had the chance to catch the 8.51pm train.  The concert finished at 8.45 or 8.46, or something around that.  I would need to run to catch it.  I did run.  I was breathing heavily when I made it to the train with twenty seconds to spare.

The question being, should I run?  Is it classy, that is, to be in a rush?  Should a gentleman hustle, as it were?

I do do a very quick walk on occasion, but I rarely ever run for a train.

Anyway.

Finished The Blind Assassin tonight, and enjoyed it.  I think it may have been a tad too long for my liking, but not dangerously so.  (Perhaps it felt too long because it took right until the end for everything to come together, although to complain about ‘things coming together at the end’ seems a stupid thing to say…  Perhaps it’s that how it all came together in the end didn’t quite make up for the length.  Oh well.  I enjoyed it, that’s all that counts.)

Wasn’t the book I thought it was going to be, that’s for sure.  I expected, quite literally, a blind assassin as the protagonist.  Ha!  I should read a blurb once in a while.

I also thought that the “blind assassin” novel-within-the-novel, where it was a mystery which sister had written it, was a mystery that would never be solved.  I thought that might be a way to leave the ending hanging somewhat, to give the book a depth that ambiguity can lend to such things.  But no, I was wrong – we did find out who wrote it.  So that was nice, in a way, that I was ‘surprised’.

I think Atwood relied slightly too much, however, on interrogation of cliches.  I, obviously, can’t think of an example right now, but it’s to do with the narrator mentioning a cliche and then wondering why people might say that cliche, or what it actually means, or how strange it is if you actually think about it for a second or two.  It’s a slightly cheap way, in my opinion, of seeming original.  (Then again, I do it quite a bit too, I guess.  Except I rarely spend half a paragraph on it; rather I change one or two words in the cliche, such that those who are aware of the original phrase will see what I’ve done, and those who aren’t won’t notice anything out of the ordinary.  It’s a half-creative way of playing with words.)

She did have one line that I liked (out of many lines).  But one line that’s really stuck, though I shall recall it imperfectly now: “You couldn’t see much in the lake, as the water was quite dark, but every now and then you might see the flash of a school of minnow, like a pickpocket’s fingers.”

“Like a pickpocket’s fingers” – that’s good, that is.  Very good.

I shall read more of her, as soon as I’ve finished reading all the books I currently own.  So it’ll be a while.  (I plan to write a list of authors whose oeuvres I wish to complete, so that when I do finish all the books I have, I won’t have forgotten.)

18/575 in The Orphan Master’s Son by Adam Johnson.  Won the Pulitzer this year, apparently.

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Written by epistemysics

July 4, 2013 at 4:16 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

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