No way, Norway

My brief infatuation with the Undset vanished predictably. I found a nice copy of Flaubert's Parrot the following morning and i started such last night before collapsing into early slumber. I had a copy of this novel 12-14 years ago and I recall reading certain portion and then discarding it, only to lose it later, seemingly bereft at the time of a true intimacy with either Julian Barnes or Flaubert. Fast forwarding to my slacker present, I feel comfortable with the work of both these authors and the dozen pages I absorbed were readily appreciated last night. I read the Dostoevsky today and have made it to p. 200, still behind my wife, but enjoying it even without finding an ideal velocity. I will read the Barnes oin Friday buring and after the dentist. I will then hope to read Coast of Utopia by Stoppard on Monday in anticipation of our trip to New York and seeing such upon the stage at Lincoln Center.