This month has been one of waiting. An inordinate amount of waiting: in airports, at bus stops, train stations, in taxicabs; in fact my life over the last few weeks has felt like some fifth level limbo but with extra good books.
<<TBR CHALLENGE 2017: JULY>> Note: Jane at Greenish Bookshelf and Jackie at Death By Tsundoku are co-hosting the Anne of Green Gables series readalong – totes check out their blogs if you want to … Continue reading Anne of Avonlea & the Island PLUS TBR Challenge (or 3 birds…one teeny stone…)
Hiya Kittens, You may recall in the land before time, I mentioned a Project Montgomery, starting with LM Montgomery’s classic Emily series…I posted maybe once…or twice, and then life etc … Continue reading Anne of Green Gables, LM Montgomery, (or rewards for the backslidden, no matter WHAT Rachel Lynde says…)
Organised by the amazing Juhi @ Nooks & Crannies. It is finished. I feel like a proclamating tv evangelist (sans all the asking for additional funds to build glass churches…) … Continue reading MIDDLE MARCH. THE END (Or Dorothea is my spirit animal…Rosamund on the other hand….?)
I was writing a post on my July TBR – but my manifest guilt over MIDDLEMARCH was holding back my inspiration. Thus, I present, at long last (for the 2.9 % of you that were waiting with bated breath)
Middlemarch Book VI – The Widow & The Wife.
I have neighbours. Well, actually I have to two seperate sets of neighbours.
One set live in a large yellow brick house with an enormous hedge of trees that cut them off from the road. Practically invisible to the general passerby; their front screen-age is so immense, a battalion from Battlestar Galactica could land on their front lawn, and you would never know.
So very late…BUT for those of you middling along with us marchers…
We are now at mid point. The ABUNDANCE of characters have levelled off and whilst there are all sorts of THINGS happening, we have settled into three main storylines. (a bit of a relief really, I am not sure my character map could fit much more in…)
I have decided. Eliot is like casserole. A long, slow-cooked casserole that fills the house with its smell and impregnates itself into the curtains.
When last we left them, the Middlemarchers were fair to middling in their various life choices.
We had met Dorothea and DESPAIRED of her marrying that dull prosy old fart (Casaubon); and had made a tentative acquaintance with Tertius Lydgate.
One of my New Year’s resolutions was to read (or re-read) classic novels. You know, those books literati refer to with arched eyebrows and smug smirks, to which I nod knowingly about and bluff my way through, whilst never having ACTUALLY really read. (Advanced English & Cliff’s Notes for the win).