The Days and Nights of Tiny Montgomery: And where's the sense in recompense when recompense don't make no sense at all

Monday, December 10, 2007

And where's the sense in recompense when recompense don't make no sense at all

Today I came home from work. lazed around a bit and then added highlights to my hair. Then I went back to doing nothing. Just the way I like it. What with flashes and other lighting it's hard to get a decent picture of highlights, but I tried.

Well, the highlights are there; just too subtle to see in that picture.

Dinner tonight was a bit of an experiment, in a French vein. I tossed romaine lettuce with a dressing made of olive oil, balsamic vinegar, shallots and Dijon mustard. I heaped the salads with cubed potatoes and leftover roast pork fried crispy. And on top of the whole shebang, fried eggs with runny yolks. Seriously, it is a rather traditional French thing to put a fried egg on top of a salad. At any rate, it was quite good.

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What I'm Reading

Complicity by Iain Banks - Continuing my exploration of Banks and Scottish literature I delved into my third Banks novel, this one yet again completely different. The story of drug and drink addicted journo who gets inadvertently involved in a serial killer's revenge murders.
How to Be Good by Nick Hornby - It had its moments, but I got rather bored with it about 2/3 through. I'm not sure ole Nick ought to make his main characters female.
Sunshine by Robin McKinley - This book was recommended by the librarian who goes on NPR all the time and talks about summer books, etc. As it was about vampires, I had to try it anyway. And I kind of loved it. A completely new twist on vampires in a sort of alternate universe now. Unfortunately, the sex, while teased, wasn't what I hoped for. I thought I'd try some of her other titles, but the covers alone had me running away, screaming. Very florid, fantasy-type illustrations. Think I'll just stick with this one and the hoped-for sequel.
The Braindead Megaphone Essays by George Saunders - I'm only a few pages in but I've already belly laughed -- out loud while alone and at work! -- something I don't ususally do. I appreciate, very much, written humor, but it seldom makes me actually laugh out loud. George Saunders is so brilliant and so completely right on and so fucking funny. I love his surreal, absurdist fiction, but this book is so completely perfect.
The Business by Iain Banks - Completely unlike the Wasp Factory, but compelling nonetheless. The female main character doesn't always ring true, but the story turns out to be wotth it, despite my initial reservations.
The Secret History by Donna Tartt - Since she wrote a book I really loved, The Little Friend, I thought I should give this a try. I'm only a chapter or so in, so I'm withholding judgement for now.
The Wasp Factory by Iain Banks -- Whoa. This debut novel is like nothing I've read before. I have been known to physically throw books that feature animal abuse across the room in disgust, but this book uses it to further the story in a very effective way. I couldn't put it down.
You Don't Love Me Yet by Jonathan Lethem. Since I originally said I was reading this, I've read it at least three more times. (What? You listen to a record you like more than once, don't you?). I still can't really articulate why I love this book so much. There is just something that really speaks to me. Lethem is to be commended for writing a female character so perfectly.