Light reading

For the past couple of weeks, I’ve been read­ing ‘Travels with a Donkey in the Cévennes’ by Robert Louis Stephenson. Stephenson’s use of lan­guage is abso­lutely crack­ing, but that’s not the only reas­on I’ll miss it. Finishing the book also means that I’ll need to get back to Rushdie’s ‘Midnight’s Children’ (I’m find­ing it extremely dense and tedi­ous; how­ever, count­less indi­vidu­als have told me it is fant­ast­ic, so I’m sol­dier­ing on in the hope it will turn my opin­ion) and ‘Anna Karenina’ (an impress­ive, but seem­ingly cold nov­el; almost a Russian ‘kit­chen sink’ effort, but Tolstoy has thrown in far more than that). Like most people, I think, my read­ing is com­bin­a­tion of enter­tain­ment and des­per­a­tion — at the thought of the great, clas­sic nov­els I haven’t yet read.

Author: Ian Hocking

Writer and psychologist.

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