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Apparently there was an amazing lightning storm last night but I had the curtains drawn and only heard far away thunder which never got loud. Am not a fan of lightning or thunder, so am glad I missed it.
The last book I finished was over a week ago, Carpe Jugulum. Since then it's been The Fellowship of the Ring downstairs, and-- I won't say Hizakurige/ Shanks' Mare upstairs, as endless games of solitaire to avoid reading Hizakurige. It's an Edo period picaresque novel about two ne'er-do-wells travelling the Tokaido road to Kyoto. It's long, repetitive, obvious, and adolescent. Edoites loved it, of course.
(I don't think I've ever read a picaresque novel in my life, unless Tristram Shandy counts, but that one's simply batshit. I have the impression that picaresque novels are all long, repetitive, obvious, and adolescent, is why I've avoided them.)
The last book I finished was over a week ago, Carpe Jugulum. Since then it's been The Fellowship of the Ring downstairs, and-- I won't say Hizakurige/ Shanks' Mare upstairs, as endless games of solitaire to avoid reading Hizakurige. It's an Edo period picaresque novel about two ne'er-do-wells travelling the Tokaido road to Kyoto. It's long, repetitive, obvious, and adolescent. Edoites loved it, of course.
(I don't think I've ever read a picaresque novel in my life, unless Tristram Shandy counts, but that one's simply batshit. I have the impression that picaresque novels are all long, repetitive, obvious, and adolescent, is why I've avoided them.)

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I guess I don't think of his books as being long because they just FLY by. Dickens is like that too, but Collins is more streamlined (and Lord, his plots are also better).