I succumbed. I realised a little while back that one of the reasons Fiction and I were at odds was that whatever I tried to read had one major fault: It was not Patrick O’Brian. I tried to resist starting another reread because, really, there are so many books in mnt tbr and a reread takes two months at least, two months when I don’t get to reduce the mnt at all. So I read some non-fiction, which kept me amused, but then decided that O’Brian was worth it, and now I’m half-way into Master & Commander.
I’m not given to envy, but oh, how I envy those lucky people who get to read the Aubrey/Maturin saga for the first time. I even envy my past self. Had I realised what was going on I would have savoured it more. However, a reread is no bad thing, either, I still discover new treasures (and smile in recognition at old).
The 20-book set must be one of my best book-puchases ever. Talk about value for money. I bought most of them at «3 for 2» in Worthing, and at least one second-hand – in the Oxfam bookshop i Oxford, in fact. And I read them when I first bought them in 2000 (pre-blog days), and again in 2002, 2003, 2005 and 2007. And my father has read them once. So with this reread we’re up to 7 reads. See why I buy books rather than borrow them?
In which we wave goodbye and say hello.
Finished Blue at the Mizzen yesterday. I had to wave farewell to Jack and Stephen. Desolation Island ain’t innit. I suppose I could start all over again, but first I have to reread Pamela for a course. Lucky for Pamela she’s not a real person, as I think I might have strangled her. I would certainly have drowned Robinson Crusoe, the «hero» (using the term very loosely) of the book we read for the last session. But perhaps he were to be hanged? That would explain why he was so unperishable. I’m looking forward to Shamela, being next on our list. It might possibly reconsole me to Richardson that at least he furnished food for such excellent pulling of legs.
Saw The Shipping News Saturday. What a wonderful film. I have no idea what it was all about, though.
Funny moment Saturday evening: I have a somewhat squewed concept of time, especially as regards my own age. I was 13 last year, I’m sure (at least I don’t feel any older), unfortunately that would make this, uhm, 1988. Which it obviously isn’t. Anyway, was out with a friend and we went to TGI Fridays. They had a sign saying you had to be 24 to enter. I actually had to stop: «Am I?» Well, a quick calculation told me I had nothing to worry about. However, earlier in the day we had been to an Irish pub (excellent fish and chips!) where the sign was 20 years. And I had actually hesitated just for a moment…
Funnily enough I never seem to forget that I’m above legal drinking age, though.
The bottle stands by you, sir.
In which we almost startle people.
Odd. Tried posting something yesterday, but it doesn’t seem to have worked.
(Spoiler in the extended entry)
Fortsett å lese The Hundred Days