Reading Catch-22 was satisfying on so many levels: the initial smugness of being an seasoned insider, getting the jokes about dumb bosses and pulling rank (though I’m sure bureaucracy and asininity are painfully ubiquitous) and the distorting inebriation of rank-and-file humdrum – then the respectful hush as the plot sobers up, evolves into something I could never hope to experience on any meaningful level. It’s a great book and it’s also really really long, so two feathers in my cap as Colonel Cathcart would say.
I’ve been reading so much. Got the week off from, well, life, from one of those week-long mildly incapacitating flus and it’s all I’ve been doing. Letting the words of Silas Marner lap against my consciousness, good old-fashioned English writing with hearths and wildernesses. Can almost picture Purvis pounding the table, beaming at the nearest girl who’d make eye contact. “I am Silas!!!”
Also helps that I’m trying to take a break from people before the inevitable. Feeling inundated. All the cute ones are crazy, all the rest mockingly sane.