False Footing

As noted, I recovered Saturday from the Norwegian funk to spend the day with the delightful if equally disturbing novel Rituals. I was impressed by the pacing throughout, especially towards the silence sought by most of the characters. There is an aside within that relates to the clamor of modern life, indeed it is infernal by any sane metric.

I then felt at a loss. A disturbing product of having a large library in one's home is that surfeit of temptation. One could imagine it as a serpent of temptation, to wax Edenic, each tome in the stack one assembles around one's chair whispers, coos, sighs.

Pushing through, i managed to begin a healthy ledge in Earthly Powers by Burgess. Likewise, the hour before bed has been larded the last few nights with Arthur Conan Doyle. I hope to address both authors in due time.