Catching Up

I read all of McEwan's On Chesil Beach on the drive from Indy to Chicago, such isn't a feat, really, though though the novella is brilliant at times, it carries, that now typical, at least for me, imperfection of McEwan's recent novels. The biographical details were enchanting especially with the predilection towards Cohen's book on the Millenial cults. The female counterpart appear less developed, more bent towards an incestual subplot. That last bit was really just rubbish.

I did not read much of the Powell while in Illinois, only 50 pages at a cafe. I did buy Any Old Iron by Burgess and took it with me for the lengthy transit to the Manu Chao show, it was well suited for just this effect. I am not sure if I will resume reading it. I did buy Tom Franklin's latest novel as well.

My chief obstacle remains the allurew of the Fisk, it towers above all other texts at the monet. The Kingsley bio is languishing, though I fault my friends for their own apathy regarding that. i should at least push through the Powell's first movement.