England Leave; Wales Remain.
The usual sense of entitlement, the inflated sense of importance and superiority, has ended up in the predictable farce that more than a few of us predicted. Stiff upper lip and all that ( which is, incidentally, an Americanism, if memory serves you correctly), but the reality is that they " bottled it". You begin to wonder if the post-Diana generation is particularly susceptible to this kind of emotional fragility.
At one of the second- hand book shops you found, by some kind of miracle, the third volume of Molly Hughes's trilogy, ' London Child', for only a pound.
Earlier, you read a list of the 75 best books over the last 75 years. And who doesn't like a list? There's something very old about them ( Jack Goody). Mostly American writers ( after Brexit that's just as well...we don't want any of that European trash over here).
Picking up on the list you read five pages of Salinger's 'Nine Stories' and close it firmly shut. Supposed to be a book that stays with you for life. Move on to Waker Percy's ' Moviegoer' but realise I can't stomach that either. Not another book about white male angst or an existential crisis! It all seems so fake, 'constructed', like a B movie. More entitlement and inflated egos, you suspect. Of course I'm sure serious readers will say this approach, flitting in and out of books as if you were sampling them, is highly disrespectful and in addition may possibly be a sign of your inability to be attentive to serious matters.
No doubt, but all this literature just doesn't sound grown up. What can you read in your mid- forties? Something untimely, perhaps.
On to Christina Stead (highly recommended) but another book on the disintegration of the family? Dunno.
On a more positive note: cheese and mayo in a crusty roll at the world's best cafe: the Wright's Bar.
The usual sense of entitlement, the inflated sense of importance and superiority, has ended up in the predictable farce that more than a few of us predicted. Stiff upper lip and all that ( which is, incidentally, an Americanism, if memory serves you correctly), but the reality is that they " bottled it". You begin to wonder if the post-Diana generation is particularly susceptible to this kind of emotional fragility.
At one of the second- hand book shops you found, by some kind of miracle, the third volume of Molly Hughes's trilogy, ' London Child', for only a pound.
Earlier, you read a list of the 75 best books over the last 75 years. And who doesn't like a list? There's something very old about them ( Jack Goody). Mostly American writers ( after Brexit that's just as well...we don't want any of that European trash over here).
Picking up on the list you read five pages of Salinger's 'Nine Stories' and close it firmly shut. Supposed to be a book that stays with you for life. Move on to Waker Percy's ' Moviegoer' but realise I can't stomach that either. Not another book about white male angst or an existential crisis! It all seems so fake, 'constructed', like a B movie. More entitlement and inflated egos, you suspect. Of course I'm sure serious readers will say this approach, flitting in and out of books as if you were sampling them, is highly disrespectful and in addition may possibly be a sign of your inability to be attentive to serious matters.
No doubt, but all this literature just doesn't sound grown up. What can you read in your mid- forties? Something untimely, perhaps.
On to Christina Stead (highly recommended) but another book on the disintegration of the family? Dunno.
On a more positive note: cheese and mayo in a crusty roll at the world's best cafe: the Wright's Bar.
No comments:
Post a Comment