Moving On, Encumbered With Dog Biscuits

It has been a good week, much improved since the doldrums of last weekend. Tuesday was a trip to Indianapolis and the Immigration Big Tent. Tolstoy melted away, his normally taut prose appeared billowing by maudlin misgivings, Frank Norris came to mind. I haven't completed it yet, having swept forward to 230 or so: it must be admitted that if N wasn't reading it in tandem, I would've dropped it. Continued progress in both Collapse and Pol Pot, both engaging but just so impractical for portability. This rainy a.m. I picked up Father and Son by Larry Brown and have read near 150 pages. It is a terse novel, similar to Carver, as noted by Gary Hawkins. Speaking of Brown, I bought Big Bad Love on DVD at Blockbuster, though I have yet to watch it. I have tried to keep up with Roger's blog and amstill reading last weekend's NYT.

Ed has given me anopther valued heads up and I have Suttree on order. I suppose that samizdat will dispense with Jared Diamond by month's end.