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I went to the indoor gym today, but was regrettably out of shape after not exercising for a week and a half, and spending the half in bed. There were several routes I think I could have done, but ran out of strength part of the way up. I think I expended all my energy on karate yesterday, where I was also out of shape and uninspired.
Yesterday I started Michael Faber's The Crimson Petal and the White, in the hope that it would satisfy my desire to read a book about Victorian prostitutes that is, even if dark, in some sense enjoyable and fun rather than depressing. I had thought of taking it to Europe. But after reading the first few pages to see if I liked it enough to lug around such an enormous tome, I see that I will not be taking it anywhere. It has one of the most assured openings I've ever read, and I am now a hundred pages in and bedazzled. The paragraph beginning "And yet you did not choose me blindly" is dead-on, in every particular, about how I chose the book and how I felt as I read the first page.
( The first page of The Crimson Petal and the White )
Yesterday I started Michael Faber's The Crimson Petal and the White, in the hope that it would satisfy my desire to read a book about Victorian prostitutes that is, even if dark, in some sense enjoyable and fun rather than depressing. I had thought of taking it to Europe. But after reading the first few pages to see if I liked it enough to lug around such an enormous tome, I see that I will not be taking it anywhere. It has one of the most assured openings I've ever read, and I am now a hundred pages in and bedazzled. The paragraph beginning "And yet you did not choose me blindly" is dead-on, in every particular, about how I chose the book and how I felt as I read the first page.
( The first page of The Crimson Petal and the White )