Last night I finished Robertson Davies' The Merry Heart, a collection of essays, lectures, etc about books, reading, writing... I'd been working on it off and on (mostly off) for a few years but finally sat down to read the last couple of sections. Some of the pieces I probably wasn't the ideal audience for (like the long one on Dickens -- I've only read 1 of his books). I'm not quite sure if it made me want to tackle any of his fiction or not.

Today on the train I finished John Crowley's The Deep. The beginning actually annoyed me (he does lots of shifts to different characters with no break other than a new paragraph between them) but I liked it a little better at the end. It was his first novel though and he's obviously improved since then.
posted by Kristin Buxton at 8:45 PM