truth and beauty- getting an inside peek into the life of a writer was interesting, and the whole book went down in one big gulp. however, she never really fleshed out the character of lucy, and while i loved the descriptions of their connection and friendship, i didn’t feel like i knew lucy well.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about drinking problems and how they are defined and whether I have one and how would I know it? How can one be sure? It seems like the small act of wondering, an indication of self-reflection and contextualization, would either put you in the have/do not have category, but it’s hard to tell. Plus, thinking about drinking problems also makes me think about drinking and encourages some weird rationalization patterns, it gets these demented little “Yay Drinking!” cheerleaders in my head all riled up, doing cartwheels past slideshows of wine times and beer times and booze times. But on the other hand, a sign of a drinking problem might also be that I saw some pineapple mint freshly squeezed 6 dollar tempter at Whole Foods and thinking “Um wow that would make an awesome mimosa let’s have BRUNCH DRANKS!!”
if sally isn’t your favorite character on mad men your entire life is wrong
i get a lot of information about the type of person someone is when they describe onions as “sweet.”
also i’ve given up (kinda) on henry james’ “turn of the screw”— the language is too creaky right now. maybe winter is a better time. currently wading & savoring “a supposedly fun thing” by DFW, just warming my little hands by his brilliant genius firemind. had to hit the pause button on hallucinations by one mr oliver sacks cause i am NOT trying to read about someone’s horrifying hallucination that there’s some huge person in the shadows of their room, or sitting on their chest, or that there is a corpse lying next to them in bed. so. lots of fits n’ starts on the old reading front.
I can vaguely recall when Bel Canto was a Thing, getting tapped for all the hottest book clubs, but I never read it. Alas. This book is really wonderful. It’s been months since I finished it (kinda behind on these reviews), but the memories are coming back very crisp. Oh, this book. So much humor and humanity. See, that sounds like some banal platitude, but in this case it’s true, Patchell writes with such grace and wit and the fantastic backdrop of this book is used to such rich affect. I’m somewhat uncomfy with the way she didn’t name the Latin American country, but identified all the neighboring countries. Like, why not just say Colombia? Didn’t get that, felt a bit racist or something. Damn, not how I wanted to end this review! Ultimately I loved this book, the ending was devastatingly sad, and that’s basically an A+ experience for me, having my heart run through a meat grinder of a book. And Bel Canto can grind some heartmeat— trust.