Working my way through Simenon's
romans durs, one by tragic one. Ordering them one by one, on an as-needed basis; otherwise, I fear I would glut on them, not sleep at all, perhaps drink myself to death, or just leave. Greatly relieved to discover that
NYRB is issuing another one this year, so I don't yet have to fear running out.
Treated myself to
Aurorarama, by Jean-Christophe Valtat, because it sounds breathtakingly lovely and weird, and I'm particularly enamored of the possibility to confront for myself the
copyeditor's dilemmas therein. Seems I'm not yet in the mood for it, though.
After talking up the brilliance of China Miéville and of
The City & the City in particular to various coworkers, I'm all in a lather over when there might be something more for me to read, and lo!
Embassytown! Sounds like a sequel! But no!
it's something entirely new!
Resolving also to finish
The Magic Mountain (Thomas Mann) before the winter is through.
That is all.
Treated myself to Aurorarama, by Jean-Christophe Valtat, because it sounds breathtakingly lovely and weird, and I'm particularly enamored of the possibility to confront for myself the copyeditor's dilemmas therein. Seems I'm not yet in the mood for it, though.
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