Overthunk

In my chosen field, I'm usually the one doling out the vocabulary lessons, but this time I'm getting one. "From where?" you may ask, and I would respond, "From the unlikeliest of places -- a fantasy novel!" You see, I have just begun a series new to me, that of The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant, The Unbeliever, by Stephen R. Donaldson (that's him over there). It's a 32-year-old series, from the first volume at least, and rather good so far! Covenant is a leper who finds himself the unlikely messiah in a magical land... that's about all I can tell you, as I've only made it to chapter six. Below is a list of the new words I've had to look up. I discovered as a result of Thomas that I don't think I own a paper dictionary anymore, and I kind of wish I did, so I wouldn't have to keep getting up from my comfy chair to look things up on dictionary.com. Anyway, the list: 1) picar - weapon (Spanish) -- This wasn't even in the damn dic...

If you just want to experience New Orleans without all the sweating and beignets and staggering and hurricanes, read this: A Confederacy of Dunces There's a statue of Ignatius Reilly in the French Quarter somewhere, and I'm kicking myself that I didn't see it. A movie might be made at some point, but, I guarantee you, it will be a gossamer shadow of this book's greatness. Read it. Even if only for the pale purpose of saying you've read a Pulitzer prizewinning fiction. Suffocate yourself laughing, slobber everywhere crying. Just read it. Trust me.

On another trip to the Half Price Books store, I had to use the loo. They've cleverly used the covers from old Harlequin Romance novels from the 50's and 60's as a border atop the wainscoting, so they're at eye level as you wash your hands and such. There were bunches and bunches, but a few titles struck me as perhaps more... significant than others. Could our pre-Internet forebears have been more clued in to the variant stripes of sexuality than is commonly suspected? Exhibit A: Gay Cavalier Exhibit B: Master of Saramanca Exhibit C: Citadel of Swallows and finally, Exhibit D: A Night for Possums.

Those who read this screed with any regularity are already acquainted with my love of John Updike, who, besides just possessing my esteemed enamorment, has won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction not once but twice. The day before yesterday I just happened to drop by the Half-Price Books in my town, where I, on a whim, thought some new Updike might just be the thing. So I picked this up. Note its price: $4.98. Well, the day went on, I continued shopping, visited with friends, and was waiting for my Independence Day Freedom Potato Salad spuds to finish boiling when I thought I might read a story or three while I was waiting. After all, there were 40 of them. Oh, look at that, an inscription in a used book. Let's see whose Great Aunt Margot gave this to them on which holiday... Well, I'll declare. That there says, "for Mark a rare volume John Updike" Being me, my first thought at any awesome event such as this is, "Nuh UH ." So of course I went and checked here ...