Finished: “The Magnificent Ambersons,” Booth Tarkington (#100)

A bratty, old-monied kid watches the turn-of-the-century world pass him by as he looks down his nose at technology and hard work (and the wealth they create), and slowly but surely gets his economic and societal comeuppance. Filled me with joy; imagined a similar fate for many real world prodigal and petulant analogs in my life. Cute, easy read.


The goal

School pretty much ruined me for reading for pleasure. I’m roughly 30 years old and I’ve probably read fewer than 10 novels since college. I don’t think I like fiction. I can feel the language/reading part of my brain atrophying into a shriveled nodule just strong enough to labor through the WSJ and occasional marginally-better-than-total-drivel gems  from the blogosphere (how this word gets spelling-errored in WordPress is a total mindfuck). Also, fuck you, Twitter. I just sit back and mindlessly scan the schizophrenic global blather and somehow think I’m reading or learning.

I’m going to try to make reading for pleasure a permanent part of my life. I’m going to try to work my way through Modern Library’s list of the 100 Best Novels. I will almost certainly quit. I will certainly forget the details of each book. So I’ll use this blog to capture my musings on the content and undertaking (until I quit). I’ll do my best not to wax philosophical, sound pretentious (maybe already violated this), be trite or anything else I’d find annoying.

I got a Kindle and an iPad for Christmas, and the only paper I’ll touch on this quest should be the TP while on my reading seat.