perhaps a more salubrious combination than my last. I found myself more than usually at home in the past days what with the snow and a(nother) sinus infection. I have been thoroughly enjoying "Deacon King Kong" by James McBride. Really loving his pitch perfect characters and real humor. How can you not love characters named Sportcoat, Hot Sausage, Bumbum, the Elephant etc.) Reading it is like listening to joyful notes tumbling out of Wynton Marsalis' trumpet. But then again, I just spoke with a friend who is usually on the same wave length, who said that she got fifty pages in and returned it totally unengaged. Of course this is a friend who also is not a fan of nyc. It is gritty nyc through and through...I also finished listening to Edith Wharton's "Custom of the Country" and was immersed in an entirely different NY (not to mention Paris etc.). Even with a detestable main character, it was thoroughly enjoyable with clashes of class and culture and glimmering character development. Listening while knitting gives the illusion of constructive activity. And because I was looking for any excuse to put the oven on, I tackled another Paul Hollywood, this time what he called a "crusty cob" (cob being a lump in old english). It was that, and absolutely delicious.
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