I finally finished "The History of Love" yesterday. Hmmm. It's likely that I just don't have the necessary concentration, but all of the tangled mysteries, complexities of the plot left me a little confused. It's sort of like a knot I'm just too lazy to untie right now. I did, however, love much of it. Particulary the last moments of the story. I'm reading "The Collector" now by John Fowles. It was written in 1963 or something like that...I feel like it's a book Harper might have liked. It's got a trashy feel to it, though I suppose it's literary. Regardless, nice for summertime
I've mapped 169 pages of my novel. I try to give myself little encouragements along the way to counteract all of the "Crap, crap, crap" comments. Nice! Good transition to the next chapter! I should buy some of those metallic stars I loved back when I was teacher's pet. I think the root of the problem is that I don't know Betsy outside of Harper's eyes. I'm beginning to think she didn't love him nearly as much as he loved her. This could be critical.
I started teaching a new workshop last night...a characterization class. It's large (15 students registered), but the dynamic seems quite good. It's also SO late (7:30 - 10:00). I'm on my third wind by then. I had to stay up until nearly midnight to wind down. Wound up watching the first hour or so of "The Big Chill" on cable. I like the idea of a story which revolves around a character who is dead. Hmmm. I am also meeting with the director of creative writing at George Washington U. this weekend to discuss the possibility of an adjunct position this fall.
This weekend is Father's Day. Today I mailed off the gifts to my dad: an electronic golf score keeper and "On Bullshit" (a sweet little book by a Princeton philosopher). Patrick already got his gift -- a glorious monstrosity of a gas grill. The backyard is starting to be a little piece of heaven. We bought a playhouse the other day, put it together at dusk as the fireflies came out. It was the most beautiful twilight time. I didn't even mind the mosquitoes feeding on my calves.
Back to the book. Still calling it "Two Rivers" because no one has suggested otherwise.