Thursday, April 14, 2005

I'm working my way through two good books: A Random Walk Down Wall Street, which is a very interesting book for a financial illiterate like myself; and John Crowley's Little, Big. The Crowley novel is just beautiful, and the weird thing is that even though it was originally published in 1981 it's only in the last year or so that I've become concious of all these glowing recommendations for it. People have been talking about this novel for ages, but somehow it all passed me by. I'm happy about that: even though it's been disproved again and again, every now and then I worry that I've encountered all the literary treats there are in the world, and the rest of my life will be filled with good books but nothing that floors me. A silly anxiety to have no doubt, but there it is.

Other recently discovered evidence: Kyril Bonfiglioli.
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