Fatties

Natalie called me up yesterday to ask for my advice. She needed to read a novel for English, something she could write about from a Marxist perspective, and she wondered if I would recommend Anna Karenina. I of course had to remind her that it was a pretty thick book, which I think she knew, then she listed off a bunch of other options. Almost all of them were shorter; none of them were compelling. So she decided to roll forward with Anna K.

Let's keep in mind that she's graduating in 7 weeks or so, and she has AP exams between now and then. She has also been enjoying herself some, going on little hikes and picnics with friends, relaxing a little. Watching Brooklyn 99 before bed with me. But Tolstoi it is.

I was reminded of how, sometime after the academic pressure was over my senior year, I don't remember if it was before or after graduation, I decided it was time to read Crime and Punishment. I was reading it at the beach, sitting in a squat chair in the shallow waves near our beach place at Emerald Isle, working on my tan, while the rather country girls in bikinis and whatnot walked up and down the beach. I never did make much progress getting to know them, primarily because I was kind of afraid to speak to them because what the hell was I gonna say? We had little in common.

At some point in time I left my Dostoievskii sitting on the arm of my chair and it fell into the water. I decided that this meant I wasn't supposed to read it then, and probably picked up a spy novel.

Things got better in New Haven.