Oh, this isn't going to end well for Mr. Obscure, is it.
I've made several tries at Hardy novels in the past and have never been able to get past the stifling English-classroom wordiness of them (this from a woman who adores Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, mind). Plus there's the whole dumb-dark-belly-tension thing about gender relations, and the leitmotif about tender hopes being crushed under the hobnailed boots of tradition, and the general impression that the lusty peasantry are thisclose to ritual cannibalism, and to sum up I am a literary masochist for even considering trying this again. Six chapters in, it is clear that a cleansing reread of Cold Comfort Farm will be in order if I ever finish reading this book rather than hurling it across the room and shrieking, "Life is too frakkin' SHORT!"
(Hee. "Eeeeeeeemoooooo.")
2 comments:
1) FAN-tastic abridged video
2) Seriously depressing story as all hell.
3) Life is too short. Isn't _Making Money_ out now?
Why Ms. Weebat, I do declare, it is as though you read my mind regarding the disposal of income during my lunch hour. Hi-yo, Borders, away!
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