I'm The Limit
Now Playing: Galaxie 500--"Isn't It A Pity"
This week's been rather uneventful. Of course, that won't stop me writing about it.

I'm currently working through my unread books in time for the beginning of February, when I intend to start writing again (or hit the big winter book sale at the library; I'm such a whore). Some recent thoughts on books and movies:

Bleak House (Charles Dickens, 1852): Wow! I read all his novels back in college--the Roanoke library had reproductions of the original editions, with the illustrations by George Cruikshank and "Phiz" (whatever his real name was), and I figured I might as well. This is supposed to be his greatest, and it's definitely a masterpiece of character, action, and description. The most nefarious character is probably the long-running lawsuit of Jarndyce and Jarndyce, in whose tentacles most of the characters flail to maintain their human dignity and/or financial stability. The BBC recently did what was supposed to be a terrific version, with Gillian Anderson as Lady Dedlock, but make sure you read it before it hits these shores.

Giants and Toys (Yasuzo Masumura, 1958): Crazy-ass Japanese corporate satire about rival candy companies and the depths to which they'll sink to maximize profits. This was Cinema Guild's first movie since August, and I was thrown for a loop, as I expected it to be funnier, but shame on me, I guess. Lives are wrecked and dignity in general gets tossed in the crapper. There's a great running gag of the main company's sales figures taking this vertical plunge to the bottom every time we see them. You'll never look at caramel the same way again.

The Sundering Flood (William Morris, 1896): Morris' last "medieval romance" (proto-fantasy novel) was finished a short time before he died, and it's a gripping story of two lovers separated by war and revolution (sort of, anyway), if you can make it through all the purposefully archaic prose. There's an interesting bit in there when the citizens of the City of the Sundering Flood rise up against the king and basically establish a republic! Morris was a socialist and his take on the possibilities of fantasy was definitely a little different than those of his successors, J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis (and, many of you will probably infer, much more palatable for this commentator--more people should really be writing this stuff). The Wood Beyond The World and The Well At The World's End are very good, too.

Ali and Nino (Kurban Said, 1937): Mysterious love story set against a backdrop of war and revolution, etc., etc. This one's mainly interesting because of its author, whose story was recently told in Tom Reiss' biography The Orientalist. It's pretty good in its own right, focusing on the title lovebirds (respectively, Azeri and Georgian) in early twentieth-century Azerbaijan and Persia, and turns positively gripping at the end.

I just finished Marguerite Duras' The Sailor From Gibraltar (1952) and am starting A.E. van Vogt's Slan (1953)--reading these in chronological order is an interesting experience.

That's basically all that's happened this week, not that I'm complaining. I could be writing more, but... whatever.