Wednesday, May 10, 2006


My reading life, as prolific as ever, has settled into a copse of nettles. One can't abandon the Pickwick Papers as it were, given its episodic nature, one only sets it aside. It is a cluster of stories and all are rife with character and humor. The same trek across the Borges Monday night gave pass this past evening to Nabokov's study of Gogol and then finally to Vasily Grossman: A Writer at War.

It must be admitted that the Grossman isn't exactly a book either. It is selections from notebooks couched with context by Anthony Beevor. I can't say it will be followed to its conclusion. It may be premature to leap towards Gaddis or Mann, I do need narrative nonetheless.


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