Yes, I'm still on book four. But at least it's making me laugh out loud.
Charlotte Lennox's The Female Quixote is turning into a really fun read, one that is getting me strange looks on the city bus when I suddenly break out laughing.
I'm quite enchanted by the fact that Mr. Glanville is completely mortified that he's fallen in love with a woman who is so completely out of touch with reality and yet remains completely incapable of escaping her charms.
Best line so far: "Mr. Glanville was still in terrible Confusion, and silently cursed his ill Fate, to make him in Love with a Woman so ridiculous."
And, even better, Lennox has now introduced a rival to Mr. Glanville for Arabella's affections, Sir George, who not only understands Arabella's odd obsession with romance literature but also knows such literature well enough to present himself as one of its heroes.
It's hilarious.
and only 25 years to read them. I counted the books in my home and found out that, between my partner and me, we have 1399 books in total. They run the gamut from science fiction to philosophy to feminist theory to graphic novels to poetry and plays. Then I counted how many of these books I had actually read from cover to cover: 276. Yikes. How embarrassing. So now I've committed myself to reading every book in the house before I die. Follow my adventures in reading here.
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