Halfway there

So I'm liking The Bell Jar. It's everything I hoped Huckleberry Finn would be, minus the the Mississippi. Imagine an actual character spewing actual social commentary, rather than just confusing insinuations that are supposed to be clever but actually just make me feel stupid.

I really like the mix of description, dialog and internal commentary. It's so refreshingly well done.

That's all I really have to say. I think I'll be reading The Tenant of Wildfell Hall when I finish The Bell Jar (hopefully by the end of this week) and then I'll finish Huckleberry Finn. Then I'm thinking Ernest Hemingway. We all need a little Hemingway, right?

I don't know how to not say fail

You know when your friend doesn't call you back for a substantial period of time and then suddenly you happen across each other at the bookstore and it's awkward and neither of you has anything to say to the other and you both just wish that you could leave without reading the excerpt chapter of City of Fallen Angels that you came there to read?*

That's the exact same kind of awkward it is for me to tell you that I did not, in fact, read The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn in its entirety but still have approximately a third of it to go. But um, I did move this blog to Blogger, so that's something, right?

But I'm going to finish it. Possibly whilst I start The Belle Jar by Sylvia Plath which is, according to the reliable source of me, the next book I will be reading. It's on hold at the library.

Insanity. Looking forward to it. Hopefully, you are, too.

*Regardless of how much the accounts in this incredibly running on sentece may lead you to believe this happened to me, it did not. I swear it. Jeez people, I'm not Lemony Snicket. Trust me.

I don't thrive on the drama

Oh Mark Twain (that's not even your real name, is it?), somehow when I read your book, I feel as if you are insulting my intelligence. Is that your intent? Are you trying to prove how ridiculously uninitiated I am? Because it's already been documented.

I'm not sure why I feel condescended to while reading this book. I'd like to use that as my excuse for being so slow in reading it but I'm pretty sure that'd be a lie. I'm liking Huckleberry Finn of which I've only read 135 pages but shhh-we'll-get-to-that later. Somehow, though, I'm not as far as I should be.

Any why is that, by the way? Why can't I stick to my number of pages a day schedule and finish on time? Why do I start late and procrastinate later until it's July 30th* and I have 145 pages to read in less than 48 hours?

Remember the part in She's Just Not That Into You where the main guy who seems like a Justin tells her that girls thrive on drama and that's why we don't pay phone bills until the last minute? That generally did not make sense to me. Do you think I enjoy this? Do you think I like having to spend most of my day reading so I can finish this self imposed goal on time? Don't answer that if the answer you're thinking starts with the letter 'y'.

Because I don't enjoy it. Maybe a little but mostly not. I'm a busy person. I have novels to write and tank tops to knit and early episodes of Smallville to watch, not to mention blogs to write and read and YouTube videos to view... (as an afterthought there's also school, supposedly). I do not have eight hours on the last day of every month to finish listening to Mark Twain make supposed jokes that I don't even understand until I read their endnotes and realize, 'Oh that's ironic commentary on drying your socks on the west side of your house.'**

And yet my tomorrow is going to be filled with just that. Only maybe not eight hours. That's dramatic hyperbole.

*Happy Birthday, Neville.

**Footnote for the Alexs to my Mark Twain: this is a joke. I'm pretty sure Mark never had a comment on that.

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Ridiculously behind

What does it say about me that I'm consistently behind on every book I read for this blog? Is there anyone that wants to analyze this and get back to me? Or maybe I don't want to know. The only book that I actually finished reading a week before the end of the month was A Little Princess and that was the only children's book I've read.

And to complete this blog so it doesn't look like a grand, rhetorical question about my psyche, I will add that I'm mostly enjoying Huckleberry Finn, despite the procrastination. The weird thing is that I like to read before bed but lately that's been hard. I just can't keep my eyes open after 11pm. I suppose this could be seen as a good, healthy thing, but I am behind on my reading.

Note to self: renew efforts!

Princesstry

I loved this book. A Little Princess, I mean or in case you forgot. I almost did. I know we're eleven days into July and I'm like an absent, neglectful parent of this blog and I'd feel sorry for that but I don't see a point to feeling sorry. There's a lot going on and not to say that this isn't important (it is!) but it's not as high up on the list as you might like to believe.

My foot is asleep.

Reading A Little Princess (on one of my friends' list of books, by the by) was the first time in a long time that I read a children's' book that didn't make me feel like a child. Incidentally, I do not read a large amount of children's books but this one brought back something of a Harry Potter feeling. I love coming across an author who doesn't dumb things down for us young 'uns. I really enjoyed A Little Princess and not just because I admired Sara's composure or because of the rounded cast of characters. It was just a good story. Somewhat, anticlimactic at the end, but I dealt with it. Don't we all wish we were the strong, mature type who overcame poverty and adversity and imagined ourselves a better present and had it all turn out lovely in the end?

When you think about it, being a princess is freaking hard. I mean, you've got to be cordial and polite to everyone, no matter who idiotic or vindictive they are. Needless to say, I am filled with respect for Sara. She's going on my list of heroes. It's not a long list but she's on it. I've actually been trying to channel her energy. It's not really working but I think about it sometimes. What Would Sara Do? As I said, being a princess is hard. At least we all have something to aspire to.

A Little Princess is an amazing novel. It's inspiring and well written and not the least bit patronizing. Thank you Frances Hodgson Burnett for writing something meaningful intended for children. It's means a lot.

Next book is The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain. I've heard only good things about Mark Twain and I shall not be disappointed. In theory.

Absences and Dramatic Returns

Hi. Remember me? Is that a gimmicky thing to say? Sorry if you agree with me that it is. I'm afraid I don't have any other techniques for jumping over the awkward gap left by my complete neglect of this blog and you, my mysterious reader. I won't be pretentious enough to add a plural to that. There *has* to be at least one of you. Hi Mom.

Since we last spoke I have done a few things but I will narrow it down to things pertaining to this blog:

1. I drove a car on the road for the first time.


2. Oh? That doesn't pertain to this blog. Oops.


3. I did not finish reading Great Expectations, by Charles Dickens.


4. I decided to read either A Little Princess or The Bell Jar.


5. I avoided posting anything at all.


6. I read A Little Princess.


7. I decided to write a blog and end the suspense.

And here we are. How was your month?

I will post my review sometime between now and June 30th. For now, I will simply say that I adored it.