People are asking when I’ll finally write a review of Clive James’s book. The way things are shaping up, I’ll probably never finish it. He keeps mentioning books that I urgently need to read, so I start reading everything he recommends, and it’s like swimming in am ocean of boundless intellectual enjoyment.
For instance, I spent the first two days of my vacation (the actual trip yesterday and the first day at the resort today) with Nirad Chaudhuri’s The Autobiography of an Unknown Indian. I have a Minor in the English-language literature of India but I never heard of its best writer because he’s kind of non-PC. A really, really excellent writer.
Talking about the vacation, it’s heavenly, even though I stepped on a live wasp with the obvious result. Even that was enjoyable because I felt extremely happy that the little evildoer stung me and not my kid.
I definitely entertained a bunch of vacationers by standing in the middle of the beach and wailing, “Oh, thank God, thank God, oh, this is good, but it hurts so bad” while Klara enjoined me not to be such a drama queen.
Oh, and I also finally bought some chocolate hummus. I have no interest but N and Klara say it’s divine.