The Weight of What We Want
Dostoevsky has slowed, nearly to a trickle, time has become a mist and terms have yet to be defined. The believer arrived yesterday and I bought Bookforum recently. My thoughts linger and my plans remain indefinite. I am planning on reading the latest from Julian Barnes. It also appears likely that Anatomy of Melancholy by Burton will be a group read, one that I am anxious to invade.
Nocturnally I am also aloft. Barzun echoes the affect that Montaigne's Essays are the ideal bedside book, I would contend that Barzun's own massive tome is deserving of such accolade. I just finished his chapter on the "Eutopians" as he deftly proceeds from Rabelais to Montaigne to Shakespeare. Joel has been quick to praise barzun for his careful, terse descriptions, his arcing continuity, his massage of concepts in such an assured swath.
Nocturnally I am also aloft. Barzun echoes the affect that Montaigne's Essays are the ideal bedside book, I would contend that Barzun's own massive tome is deserving of such accolade. I just finished his chapter on the "Eutopians" as he deftly proceeds from Rabelais to Montaigne to Shakespeare. Joel has been quick to praise barzun for his careful, terse descriptions, his arcing continuity, his massage of concepts in such an assured swath.
posted by jon faith at
2:11 PM
1 Comments:
Before I pass to the other side or where ever it is we go, I wish much toread the complete Dostoevsky catalog. This may take a considerable amount of time, effort and depression relievers, but it will be done. If i can pass along the Gulag X 3, I can do Dostoevsky.
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