2006-11-24 - 9:16 a.m.
I am reading Edith Wharton and all I can say is: where was she all my life? This is brilliant stuff and I can't believe I've lived this long w/o reading her. In terms of wry, dead-on, yet surprisingly economical observations, she is like Martin Amis, Richard Yates, and Henry James rolled into one. And that is my favorite kind of fiction.
It is the official weekend of coziness, flannel, overly warm radiators, and pots of coffee a-brewin' all day long. I actually have to work all weekend, but at least it's from home, hence the flannel, and the coffee.
How was your T-giving?
thoughts? (6 comments so far)
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