10-Jan-2007

Cliffhanger has accused me, somewhat unjustly, I might add, of passive aggressively blasting someone with each blog entry.  Since I am constantly looking to improve myself, I am going to make it through an entire blog entry without said passive aggressive blasting.  But how?  How can I write if I don't have the added pleasure of knowing someone, somewhere, is reading between the lines and realizing they've brought my wrath upon themselves?  I'm going to make a laundry list of the books on my nightstand, that's how.

1.)  LOLITA - Vladimir Nabokov - One of my personal faves, mainly because it makes me feel all warm and cuddly and safe.  Oh, wait.  I'm thinking of The Berenstein Bears.  But that doesn't mean LOLITA doesn't rank near the top in my own personal book of books.  English was Nabokov's third language, and he used it masterfully to weave this dark, illicit, and absolutely fucking brilliant tale.  If you haven't read it, do.  It is the very definition of seductive prose.

2.)  POP - Aury Wallington - I worked with Aury this past fall.  She's a sheer delight, and her sense of humor is stamped all over this novel about losing your virginity.  I'm totally digging it.

3.)  THE WINTER OF OUR DISCONTENT - John Steinbeck - I know, I know, no wonder I get the occasional bout of depression, reading Steinbeck and all.  But this is an almost fun deconstruction of corruption within one man.  One detached and utterly charming man, in some ways like Nabokov's Humbert, but American, and not a prolific pedophile.   

4.)  WUTHERING HEIGHTS - Emily Bronte - Again with the depression.  But, like a good horror film, WUTHERING HEIGHTS administers a healthy dose of perspective, what with its refusal to portray love from any sort of flattering angle.  Score one for the cynic in me.  I read and re-read this novel the winter High School Boyfriend dumped me for my best friend, then wondered why I was sad.  Not too bright, huh? 

And now I'm off to my meeting.