Sat and read for large chunks of time yesterday. Finished off another reread of Sum then promptly ploughed through Tobias Wolff’s Old School, which is now one of my favorites because, I mean, how could it not be — it’s Tobias Wolff talking eloquently and elegantly about books. His bit on Ayn Rand made me abhor her even more (how insufferable she was!!!), and his talk of Hemingway prompted me to feel shame that I have yet to read much Hemingway.
Now, reading Dostoevsky’s White Nights, then I’d like to start Representing Sylvia Plath — and, damn it all, if I’m not subconsciously (not actively, I promise!) avoiding Proust …