the life

This morning I finished reading Boswell’s Life of Johnson — all twelve hundred pages of it, which I’ve consumed in chunks between other books. The last five hundred pages I read in a long push. I have a nice old hardback Modern Library edition, bought in a used book store in Gold Beach last summer…

novel fodder

Yesterday afternoon, still post-migraine-hazy, I finished reading Robinson Crusoe — I liked and admired it much more on this read, though I still think it falls apart as soon as Friday appears (and not just because of the embarrassing broken English). Now I’m onto Boswell again, reading straight through rather than in fits for a…