Um. This was meant to be a review of Virginia Woolf’s The Waves. Obviously, it’s not. Let me explain…
I realised at some stage of Friday that I couldn’t possibly finish The Waves in time to post my review this weekend. As I explained in my post on Friday, The Waves is far too rich, too lovely to be crammed into the space of one week. It seemed almost disrespectful.
Make no mistake – my review of The Waves will be online next weekend. But until then, here’s something else you might enjoy.
Continue reading “1774 – the sorrows of young werther ~ goethe”
I’ve never read an actual war novel before.
I’ve read novels set during wars. The Book Thief is one of my favourites. I cried absolute bucketloads reading that book. I read Connie Willis’ Blackout last year, just before I started Book to the Future (and now the next book is out and I’m wondering how on earth I’m going to squeeze it into my already insane reading schedule. Gah!).
But real war novels are something else entirely. And arguably, when it comes to war as a genre, All Quiet on the Western Front is considered one of the greatest stories of war ever written.
Continue reading “1929 – all quiet on the western front ~ erich maria remarque”
Three quarters of my way into Franz Kafka’s Amerika, I heaved a great sigh and wondered if I really, honestly had to finish this book.
After all, Franz Kafka himself couldn’t bring himself to finish it. So why should I?
Continue reading “1927 – amerika ~ franz kafka”
My first week back at work after two weeks away was a bit of a shock to the system.
But in spite of all the overtime, all the stress, there was something special about this week. Something that kept me going, something that stirred a little magic through my thoughts as I sat at my desk, typing…
It was, of course – a book. With me, it mostly always is…
Continue reading “1922 – siddhartha ~ hermann hesse”