A Spork in the Road

I finished Bleak House last night, upon which I shall report on a more lucid day.

I also began The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbary, translated from the original L’élégance du hérisson by Alison Anderson (thank you, Jeff!), which is a pure delight. And I took a running start at Gravity’s Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon, which is already as challenging and rewarding as I’ve been expecting.

I set Gravity’s Rainbow aside for next week when I have more brainpower. But I’m excited to be reading it.

I found Bleak House much more absorbing than DVRed American Idol (note how my punctuation reflects my priorities: books are bold, television shows merely italicized). Lil satisfied her Idol addiction while I sat with my iPod and headphones and Dickens, happy as a clam. A drugged clam, but a happy clam nonetheless. As far as American Idol goes, I usually watch the 30-second recap at the end of the show and feel satisfied with that. Also, I can’t stomach the results shows, which I suspect violate some obscure terms of the Geneva Convention.