Forgive the unforgivably crass allusion in the title... Anyway, I am (a) still alive and (b) still only on Chapter 3. Progress has been impeded by a (paid) job which overran by about a week, and which is still dragging on, so I never started as early as I needed to have done to finish and think and blog by the end of the month. Added to this, I think it might be wise to do some preparation for my job-interview on Wednesday...
But enough excuses: I am enjoying it, although not quite as much as I thought I would. Perhaps it's because I am tired, but I am finding the prose a little flat in places. It feels like a slightly less rich version of Brideshead at the moment, which may be a function of misconceived assumptions on my part. It has yet to become a distinctive world for me - probably because of the number of similar period books I have read.
But anyway, rest assured, I should be done by the end of the week, and may even then keep up with the rest of you. Achilles and the tortoise, remember...
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1 comment:
Good work. I'm gearing up for the second volume now. We found with Proust that the last person to finish one volume was usually the first to finish the next. Let's see.
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