Wednesday, July 4, 2012
"Tough choice! I think maybe The Forsythe Saga, though I have to say that Proust is also very tempting. Really anything but Don Quixote- just not sure I can hack that."
Cue the universe's maniacal laughter.
July's a busy month for me: I'm making my first ever recording in the my-name-is-on-the-CD-and-not-buried-in-the-back-of-the-booklet sense, and I'm running scared. The perfect time, it would seem, to have at those mills of wind.
But if I have to suffer, y'all do, too. You know you've just been waiting for a DON QUIXOTE LIVEBLOG! Oh yes.
In addition, I hereby issue an open invitation to y'all to hop onboard and read along. Please? Where are you going?
Thus far I've downloaded a free version of the book to my Kindle, tangled with the translator's preface, and skipped Cervantes's rambling prologue. Now I'm on page 3. Page 3, people! Bow down!
Though I have to say this sounds eerily familiar:
"In short, he became so absorbed in his books that he spent his nights from sunset to sunrise, and his days from dawn to dark, poring over them; and what with little sleep and much reading his brains got so dry that he lost his wits."