I'm about 50 pages from the end of Harriet Hume and when I get there I'm going to call "Finished!" to the R.I.P. Challenge. Granted, that means I'll have to count The Island of Doctor Moreau from back in August in order to reach the five book quota (reviews pending), and I'll have two-thirds of The Italian still to go, the book most appropriate for the challenge, but I want to give myself plenty of time to read Indiana for the Slaves and to make a bit of progress in In the Shadow of Young Girls in Flower for Involuntary Memory and the library stack needs some attention before I begin The Red and the Black with Isabella's crowd the first of November. Ann Radcliffe I can read slowly.
This evening, though, I'm watching Céleste, a German film with English subtitles based on Monsieur Proust, Céleste Albaret's memoir about her years as a housekeeper for Proust while he was writing Remembrance of Things Past.
And I now have what I've always wanted:
My own book store.
Sherman Alexie cancels book tour for memoir about his mother.
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When I finished Kevin Brockmeier's A Brief History of the Dead last spring I immediately did a search to see if the Coca-Cola Corp. had...