A Love of Literature
As per my narcissism post of several days ago, most of my hobbies have always been a tad poisoned by self-conscious posing. Wine appreciation, pipe smoking, chess, jazz, I've enjoyed all these things in and of themselves, while at the same time being aware that I'm acting like a hoity-toity (etymology haute?)...dork.
But there is one enjoyment I've had over the years that I've acquired simply and unself-consciously. Without really thinking about it, I find that I love literature. Not all literature, of course. Hemingway, don't let anyone tell you otherwise, was a moron. But lots of good literature. Tonight I had dinner with my wife and daughter and published short-story author sister-in-law. That's why this is on my mind. She helped me decide what to read next. I told her that I thought John Updike was a genius and a pervert and I was looking for more genius and less pervert. No help there. But she did recommend I go back to Flannery O'Connor.
In case any of you care, here's a few of my 20th century favorites. It'd be nice if someone commented, so I could sustain the illusion I'm doing more than just wasting time.
John Steinbeck, East of Eden, Winter of our Discontent
Marilyn Robinson, Gilead
Umberto Eco, Foucault's Pendulum
Graham Greene, The Power and the Glory
But there is one enjoyment I've had over the years that I've acquired simply and unself-consciously. Without really thinking about it, I find that I love literature. Not all literature, of course. Hemingway, don't let anyone tell you otherwise, was a moron. But lots of good literature. Tonight I had dinner with my wife and daughter and published short-story author sister-in-law. That's why this is on my mind. She helped me decide what to read next. I told her that I thought John Updike was a genius and a pervert and I was looking for more genius and less pervert. No help there. But she did recommend I go back to Flannery O'Connor.
In case any of you care, here's a few of my 20th century favorites. It'd be nice if someone commented, so I could sustain the illusion I'm doing more than just wasting time.
John Steinbeck, East of Eden, Winter of our Discontent
Marilyn Robinson, Gilead
Umberto Eco, Foucault's Pendulum
Graham Greene, The Power and the Glory
posted by isaiah543 at 10:27 PM
1 Comments:
It's a reference to the first line of Shakespeare's Richard III
"Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York;"
And I've always thought it to mean "discontent that makes me feel cold and dead like winter"
Let's see...does that make it an epexegetic genitive? The Winter that is our Discontent?
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