A Thread

Displaced by a necessary family encounter and an amazing day, I sought the comfort of an extended read and picked up War of the Worlds by H.G. Wells. The Humiliation game isn't worth my personal pillory, I readily acknowledge far-too-many blind spots and blank areas. Despite all the adaptations this remains a riveting novel and I found my self comparing the outlook of the protagonist with that of Ballard's Concrete Island. I was comfortable imagining that being stranded in our excess was an apt fate for a survivor.

Three hours later, I had finished and felt transported, if a bit tired. Shifting gears, I am now engrossed in Elaine Dundy's The Dud Avocado, though I admit "engross" doesn't quite capture my approach.