Kingsley Amis

I can't begin to tell you how glad I am that I took this Wall Street Journal article seriously.

Roger Kimball tallies up five great comedic novels. I had already read Scoop. And merely on the strength of that recommendation, I snagged two of the five. I've since ordered yet another from the list Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House and eagerly await its arrival (look it up on Amazon yourself; fie on blogging conventions). Brilliant contrasting humor: Wodehouse's verbal gymnastics that leave you in knots; Waugh's cynical farce that just continues and continues, getting increasingly ridiculous; Amis' intimate character-driven story, that keeps you engrossed then suddenly, uncharacteristically makes you laugh out loud...I can't add any words for the remaining two, but I hope to soon.

This Wodehouse and Amis alone have done great damage to my prospects on my upcoming Latin final. As has always been my wont to do in college, I put the matter off even though I actually enjoy it. It's rather entertaining, thanks to a computer searchable Latin dictionary, to translate and muddle my way through it. I've even tried to learn the grammar of my own accord this time around, rather than just muddle through it given the vocabulary. I haven't gone back to actually permanently commit the declensions to memory, by vauge sense of is, as, is is beginning to become a little more concrete.

Ah well...what was I writing about to begin with? Oh, right, the things that have been distracting me. I guess I should add myself to that list.