The World is Reading
I was going to wait until Harry Potter VI came out in paperback to read it, because hardback books annoy me. (They're heavy and ungainly, and loose-flapping dustcovers piss me off. Plus I'm cheap. There are times when I appreciate an elegant hardback, sure, but not when I'm trying to read the book.) My brother-in-law got it Saturday morning though, and since they only have time to read in the car and weren't going anywhere anytime soon, I spent the last two nights not sleeping. It's good, of course. And shocking. But the person who dies isn't the person everbody was predicting would, and I was just as upset as the next guy will be until I got to really pondering it, and decided she's set the seventh and final book up nicely. It's what had to happen.
I took two precious hours off to sneak in Wedding Crashers, and I want to know something. Why is it that even when Vince Vaughn is pudgy, scruffy, painfully tasteless, and stuffing his face obscenely with cake, he's still hot? I laughed so hard I nearly dislocated the left side of my problem jaw. There wasn't enough menace to Secretary Cleary (my beloved Christopher Walken), but otherwise it's a good couple of hours.
I also read Janet Evanovich's tenth Stephanie Plum installment, Ten Big Ones, in a few hours last Friday. Number ten and they're still funny. I read somewhere that she used to be a romance novelist. When asked why she gave it up, she replied, "because I ran out of positions." What wit.
I took two precious hours off to sneak in Wedding Crashers, and I want to know something. Why is it that even when Vince Vaughn is pudgy, scruffy, painfully tasteless, and stuffing his face obscenely with cake, he's still hot? I laughed so hard I nearly dislocated the left side of my problem jaw. There wasn't enough menace to Secretary Cleary (my beloved Christopher Walken), but otherwise it's a good couple of hours.
I also read Janet Evanovich's tenth Stephanie Plum installment, Ten Big Ones, in a few hours last Friday. Number ten and they're still funny. I read somewhere that she used to be a romance novelist. When asked why she gave it up, she replied, "because I ran out of positions." What wit.
posted by A at
12:19 PM
2 Comments:
I was too slow to jump on the Harry Potter bandwagon — I wait for the movies instead — but I'm covering the other half of the reading world with my purchase last night of John Irving's Until I Find You, which at 827 pages is only the second biggest book in my library. (The title holder is Don De Lillo's Underworld, which I've determined I'm more likely to bludgeon an intruder to death with before I finally get around to reading it.)
The fifth installment of the Harry Potter series may be my weapon of choice, at 870 pages, or I could rapid-fire all my ragged copies of Thorn Birds.
The HP movies are good enough and I don't know when you'd find the time, but pick one up someday and glance through. There's some indescribable formula for holding your attention in those pages. It's unreal.
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