I am reading a book of fiction for no one but myself that I sincerely and realistically expect to finish, for the first time in way more than a year.  I was reading Blindness last summer, by José Saramago, in anticipation of its film adaptation.  I had started it just before the antecedent Christmas (does that sound awkward) and had made it a little more than halfway through.  Halfway through was horrific though, and I couldn’t actually get any further.  I ended up lending it to Tony – who finished it – and hearing moderate spoilers from him in the end.  I never watched the movie either.  In fall semester, I read several whole and partial translations from late 19th and 20th century Chinese lit (finishing with scar literature), and while I enjoyed a good deal of it, as coursework it cannot be considered reading for me and me alone.

Everything finds its way.  And weirdly, a lot of it has to do with A Little Princess.

A Little Princess (1995, dir. Alfonso Cuarón) → Patrick Doyle → El misterio Galíndez (2003, dir. Gerardo Herrero) → Galíndez (1991, by Manuel Vázquez Montalbán) → Jesús de Galíndez (1915-1956?) → Read the rest of this entry »