all of her lovers, they talk of her notes and the flowers that they never sent

Overstuffed media blow.

The Heart is a Lonely Hunter: I unwittingly joined the Oprah Book Club by picking up this one up used. A fantastically nuanced portrait of the immense loneliness a person can feel even in the heart of civilization. The fact that McCullers wrote this at age 23 will astound me, and probably bother me, for weeks. Nothing else to add to 3 generations of critical acclaim for this book.

Dress to Kill: Marie learned, to her dismay, that I’d never seen Eddie Izzard do stand-up, so she sat me down to watch it this past Wednesday. It takes a little bit to ramp up but then it takes off at a lightning clip. I prefer Izzard at his smallest – the tiny nuances, like the Pilgrims saying “Pardon me” to the Indians, or the way he can do an entire 5-minute routine in French – rather than his biggest: the crazy noises and the wacky faces and the flailing about. Anyhow: I liked it.

Soon I Will Be Invincible: Borrowed this off my dad’s bookshelf when I visited Baltimore. I picture the novel’s protagonist, supervillain Dr. Impossible, as Stephen Colbert for two reasons. One, because he voiced a character named “Professor Impossible” on the Venture Bros. and the association stuck. Second, because he really fits the type: that naturalistic blend of arrogance and self-pity. I wanted more of him and less of his counterpoint, a new recruit for the world’s premier superhero team. The novel also teeters weirdly in tone between blissful embrace of its silly, comic book roots and self-conscious disdain for them. Save for those points, the novel will move and entertain you very easily.

Psychedelic Furs Greatest Hits: Picked this up for $9 in Newbury Comics. Not a sleeper on here. I don’t know what about New Wave touches the right chords in my brain, but I love it so much.

Love In The Ruins: Walker Percy’s smug Catholicism aside, Love In The Ruins paints an entertaining picture of the 60s run rampant. Cars have largely been abandoned, free love gets tested and measured in clinics, hopelessly abstract leftists feud with intransigent conservative Knotheads. In front of all this sits Dr. Tom More, whose pocket encephalograph – which he calls a lapsometer – can not only diagnose spiritual illness but correct it with a dose of radioactive sodium. Comical chaos ensues. A fun read, but, knowing now just how seriously Percy takes his religion I probably don’t need to read another.


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