Monday, February 11, 2008


I just read the latest Oprah Book Club epic "Pillars of the Earth" by Ken Follett. It's almost 1000 pages. With very few pictures, I might add. The book is about the building of a church in the 1100's. I know - spellbinding, right? Actually - think of it like the modern day Extreme Makeover Home Edition. Except with fewer bullhorns and no weepy designers with unnaturally white teeth. In fact, teeth were a luxury in the 1100's. And there is no way they could build something in a week back then, unless it was made of treebark and horse poo. And even then - poo is really not synonymous with structural integrity. Please do not ask me how I know this.

Anyway, it's a really good book. There are a few saucy sex scenes in it. And when I read them, I wondered if Oprah tagged the pages with her 3M Post-It hilighter pen. Then casually left the book in Steadman's bedroom. Because you so know they have separate bedrooms. And Steadman sleeps in a single bed. Shaped like a car.

But a book that big needs to come with a warning. Cuz unless you are halfway through, the weight of the book is uneven and becomes an effort to keep hoisted up on one side or the other. My fragile milky-white wrists almost couldn't take the abuse. In fact, I was almost crushed by the weight a time or two. But I remembered those stories of superhuman strength, like when a mom lifted a car to free her trapped kid underneath - and I grimaced through the crushing pain and managed to hold the book upright. People, it wasn't easy and I may have sustained some degree of nerve damage. But I did it.

I just started a new (way smaller) book: Kentucky Ham by William S. Burroughs Jr. Corn has a neat collection of famous works/writers I have never been exposed to, and when I read their stuff I always end up wanting to know more about their personal lives, because half the time that's more interesting than the book itself.

Like - this dude - Burroughs Jr. His dad was the famous writer William S. Burroughs Sr. (duh!) and one night the latter was at a party with his wife and they decided a game of William Tell would be a reasonable way to have a good time. She put an apple on her head. He shot her. He missed. After her death Will senior became a writer. And so did his son later on in life. And now they're both dead cuz they boozed too much.

Writers are crazy fookers.

And now for no apparent reason, a display of unsuspecting dog heads.

Please, no apples on heads.


JB said...

Did you know the Almighty Oprah either now has, or is soon opening, 'The Oprah Store' in Chicago?
...Of course you knew that.

I wonder if she'll have a few hours of Oprah Shopping Network-type programming on the new OWN-TV.

Since no one else has yet asked, it's left to me to request that you please explain to the rest of the class why you were doing structural integrity experiments on poo.

Amazon Woman said...

Try carrying a massive big book on the train and you are standing because everyone got a seat and you didn't and the train lurches and you lose your balance(because the ginormous book requires 2 hands!) and you fall into the lap of a lady and she did not even buy you a drink first!

Keep smilin!

Ma Horton said...

Y'all should read Middlesex ... I loved it .( and just for the record it is not all about sex . )

Misster Kitty said...

...then why read it Ma?

Ma Horton said...

You would love it honeycakes .