Reading makes me smrt

I read Nick Hornby's How to Be Good this week. It was one of about 10 books that I bought on my used-bookstore binge with Elena last weekend. I'd seen High Fidelity (wasn't blown away) and About a Boy (loved it) in theatres, so I decided to skip the books and go with something I hadn't seen already.

It was okay. Easily readible, but nothing profound. I was kinda expecting profundity as About a Boy the movie left me very satisfied. I'd heard that the ending of the book and the movie are quite different, so maybe the producers added in the satisfaction themselves.

To sum up, worth picking up at a second-hand bookstore, but not worth buying retail.

Jana has finally started to get interested in The Summer Tree. In response to some banal work thing, she sent me this:

"Oops, should have said 'Brightly woven!' (No idea why they say that!)"

To which (rabid fangirl that I am) I replied: "Because their God is the Weaver at the Loom. And the series is called the Fionavar Tapestry. Sheesh!"

To which (sarcastic bitch that she is) she replied: "Yeah . . . but . . . (a) I didn’t know what their god is called (I assumed he was called Diarmuid . . . rrrrrrrRRRRRrrrrrrrrrr). PLUS I’m not assuming they are aware that the stories of their world would be called the Fionavar Tapestry IF such a book was to be written! Although, they kept looking mysteriously at that tapestry in the first room!?!!!????"

There's just no reasoning with some people.

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