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I read Paul Auster's Leviathan this weekend. Auster is one of my favorite authors, though he is rather difficult to classify or describe to someone. Wikipedia says he blends absurdism and crime fiction, and I suppose that's a good enough description as any, but I don't think it encompasses the depth of his work. Anyway, I went into Leviathan knowing nothing about the plot other than what was on the back cover, and I was not disappointed. The entire ride was gorgeous and tragic and uplifting.
The novel is narrated to you by an author named Peter. He wants to tell you exactly how his long-time friend and fellow author, Benjamin Sachs, ended up blowing himself up on the side of the road in northern Wisconsin--how Sachs went from an outgoing, successful author living with a wife in Manhattan to sitting on the side of the road with a bomb in his lap in the middle of nowhere.
It was quite a ride, and I had a difficult time putting the book down. Though it has a sense of being surreal--as I feel all Auster novels do--the events leading up to Sachs' demise are believable in a bizarre, coincidental way. There are several major players in the novel, and they are all quite likable in their own way, yet always somewhat tragic in their relationships with others and themselves. At any rate, if you're looking for a quick read, then I'd highly recommend Leviathan. I don't think anyone would be disappointed with it unless they care little for the inner workings of a person's mind.
Ferguson has joined me at work today because I'm taking him to the vet this afternoon. He needs his yearly check-up and the evil!shots. Poor little guy. I hate to do it to him, but the shots are necessary to register him with the city and keep him healthy. Every time I go, they try to talk me into getting his teeth cleaned, but I'm so reticent about that because he has to be put under to do the procedure. Plus, it's a load of money, and it isn't like he has horrible teeth. I brush them every day with a special doggie toothbrush and poultry-flavored doggie toothpaste. I'm a good dog-mom, dammit.
My book thong died a horrible and abrupt death yesterday evening. It just ripped in two in my very hands. I almost cried because it has served me well and kept my place through so many books. I was so distraught I couldn't even throw it in the garbage; it's still on my side table all forlorn and damaged. So, it looks like I'm going to spend a portion of my lunch hour buying a replacement.
The novel is narrated to you by an author named Peter. He wants to tell you exactly how his long-time friend and fellow author, Benjamin Sachs, ended up blowing himself up on the side of the road in northern Wisconsin--how Sachs went from an outgoing, successful author living with a wife in Manhattan to sitting on the side of the road with a bomb in his lap in the middle of nowhere.
It was quite a ride, and I had a difficult time putting the book down. Though it has a sense of being surreal--as I feel all Auster novels do--the events leading up to Sachs' demise are believable in a bizarre, coincidental way. There are several major players in the novel, and they are all quite likable in their own way, yet always somewhat tragic in their relationships with others and themselves. At any rate, if you're looking for a quick read, then I'd highly recommend Leviathan. I don't think anyone would be disappointed with it unless they care little for the inner workings of a person's mind.
Ferguson has joined me at work today because I'm taking him to the vet this afternoon. He needs his yearly check-up and the evil!shots. Poor little guy. I hate to do it to him, but the shots are necessary to register him with the city and keep him healthy. Every time I go, they try to talk me into getting his teeth cleaned, but I'm so reticent about that because he has to be put under to do the procedure. Plus, it's a load of money, and it isn't like he has horrible teeth. I brush them every day with a special doggie toothbrush and poultry-flavored doggie toothpaste. I'm a good dog-mom, dammit.
My book thong died a horrible and abrupt death yesterday evening. It just ripped in two in my very hands. I almost cried because it has served me well and kept my place through so many books. I was so distraught I couldn't even throw it in the garbage; it's still on my side table all forlorn and damaged. So, it looks like I'm going to spend a portion of my lunch hour buying a replacement.
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I had to board my kitties at work last week, and I forgot that my oldest needed a distemper before he could board. And since I brought them in after hours, I had to give it to him myself. I drove away wracked with guilt: "Aaaah! You put me in my CARRIER (I hate my carrier!) and you brought me to be BOARDED (I hate being boarded!) and then you stabbed me with a needle!!!"