June 28, 2007

I’m 100 pages into my Louise Erdrich book… and only just now have I realized that it’s a novel, not a memoir.  In my own defense… I’m a CNF student, in the first stages of a six-month, creative nonfiction reading/writing extravaganza.  The novel is also written in the fist person… AND the voice of her narrator is so goddamn good that I’m still in shock that she doesn’t actually exist.

"The Painted Drum" is so fucking good.  You really have got to pick it up.  Go read it.  Just don’t be stupid like me.

Also, don’t be stupid like the cretinous mother I saw today (went back to B&N to read… I really like their chairs), as she picked up Siddhartha, by Herman Hesse and announced to her pre-teen daughter that she "didn’t like Herman Hess-ie.  I can’t believe they’re making you read this crap."  She also pronounced Siddhartha as "Sid Arthur," which was just too damn much to handle.

"Buddhism… take it or leave it…"

My god… I hate everyone.


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