Illumination

Everything is Illuminated is finished. Finally. It only took me about six months to read it, but there was some work and some school that interrupted it. It truly was one of the most innovative books I have ever read, purely in structure alone. Now, with 2 1/2 weeks left before my final term begins, I am starting Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro. This novel won the Booker Prize when it was published back in 1989; apparently I have an affinity for Booker Prize winning books (i.e. The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood).

38 books down, 963 to go

I cannot fathom reading 963 books, even in my lifetime. I mean, this could be one's profession to read 963 books; not to mention all of the other books in between. The books that just weren't good enough, but still capture my attention, the books that I want to read but probably shouldn't indulge, and the crappy books that I just didn't know were crappy until it was too late and then I have to throw them against the wall...  Those books aren't even counted. Well, some of these books may end up being thrown against the wall anyway. I also cannot fathom reading Frankenstein for yet a FOURTH time. I do adore Mary Shelley, and I do admire the human rights issues within the book, but four times is about two times too many.

Back to the task at hand: The Remains of the Day. The back of the cover (and for those of you who cannot stand to know it prior to actually reading the novel yourself: skip ahead now) reads: "In the summer of 1956, Stevens, the ageing butler of Darlington Hall, embarks on a leisurely holiday that will take him deep into the English countryside and into his past... A haunting tale of lost causes and a lost love, The Remains of the Day contains Ishiguro's now celebrated evocation of life between the wars in a Great English House - within those walls can be heard ever more distinct echoes of the violent upheavals spreading across Europe."

I do hope I am not boring you, whoever you are. Maybe one day, I'll actually get the courage to post something I've written, rather than post something about what so-and-so has written and my unnecessary, and unwarranted, criticism/praise of said work.

But there is no virtue at all in clinging as some do to tradition merely for its own sake (7) - Kazuo Ishiguro, The Remains of the Day