To Cheat a Template

As expected the past weekend saw industry on my part with the completion of A Member of The Wedding. Ms. McCullers is simply numinous in affording us purchase of the Elect. The thoughts and sufferings of Frankie spiral in not only a critique of the cloistered expectations for the adolescent female but rather of the fecund spirit itself, amplified perhaps by the demarcated society of the 1940s South. The roles of the peripheral charcters are much more verbose than expected (or believed) but that only allows the vamps of angst more chords to invert and redefine.

Christopher Hitchens continues to peck away at my soul like some Promethean Conservative and his text Why Orwell Matters was not exactly divine retribution (my liver remains. . .well internal) but a measure of illumination. The text was purchased with curisoity on Friday at Randy's and I must admit that plowed through 100 pages on Saturday, only stopping to pour more coffee or relight my cigar. There is a grace in Hitchens prose, a breeze of cadence and thought. His role as intellecutaional moralist for this belicose administration often forsakes this beauty. It is usually in tribute pieces in Slate and Vanity Fair where he shines. This book is no different though he does appear shaken in his attempts to circumnavigate the moral trainwreck when Orwell penned a list of communist sympathizers in 1941. as Hitchens assures us, this was at a tenuous time before the Hitler-Stalin Non-Aggression Pact was ripped asunder by Barbarosa. During that bleak season of doubt such allegiences meant to Orwell a palpable threat to humanity. That said, Hitchens picks for nits and looks foolish.