That’s how we’re spending the long weekend. We prefer books to people, generally—they’re clever, contained, non-messy (the dust is not their fault) and when we take a break from them they do not get dramatic.
Don’t call us, we’re in Shropshire-Tahiti-London-Moscow-Bohemia-Terralba-Korean airspace.
Heavy Weather by P.G. Wodehouse
Storms might be raging elsewhere in the grounds of Blandings Castle, but there on the lawn there was peace—the perfect unruffled peace which in this world seems to come only to those who have done nothing whatever to deserve it.
The Marriage Plot by Jeffrey Eugenides
The coffee was hot and lifesavingly good.
That can’t be a representative sentence, let’s try again.
In her own small way, Madeleine understood what Diane MacGregor was up against at the male-dominated lab.
‘In her own small way’?? Look again.
The Princess Grace Hospital, renamed in tribute to the former American movie star, was where she’d died the year before, following an automobile accident.
Is this a joke? Were we sold a very rough draft by mistake? We checked the cover but it really was the Eugenides. If we wanted clunky prose we would read Stieg Larsson—at least those aren’t supposed to be “literary”.
So we returned to the old reliable.
Lord Emsworth Acts for the Best by P.G. Wodehouse
Peril brings out unsuspected qualities in every man. Lord Emsworth was not a professional acrobat, but the leap he gave in this crisis would have justified his being mistaken for one.
The Cloven Viscount by Italo Calvino
Inexpert at what constituted sin, they multiplied their prohibitions lest they make mistakes, and were reduced to giving each other constant severe glances in case the least gesture betrayed a blameworthy intention.
Currently reading: The Age of Wonder by Richard Holmes
Noshing on: Arguably by Christopher Hitchens (We figured we’d read a couple of essays at a time to make it last.)
Snowdrops by A.D. Miller
and the book we’ve been hoarding for a long weekend like this: The Hunters by James Salter.
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Our favorite Tintin, in which nothing much happens.