Whenever I finish a book I get this sad feeling. Over the weekend I completed a book of short stories, Capote's Music for Chameleons. It was fantastic...the man is truly a literary genius. I furiously turned the pages anxious to see what sort of adroitness lie on the subsequent page. As of late, I've had a difficult time completing books--Amanda puts me up to a book finishing challenge everytime I begin something new. I'm a little dissappointed in my inability to read the way I once did, but I guess that comes with life changes.
I was down to four pages, but I couldn't finish the book due to a burning desire to go through and mark all of his ingenuity. My favorite line, "...she sounded the way bananas taste." I don't know why, but that line resonated within. Granted anyone could say it, however the attempt to wrap my mind around the juxtaposition of sound and taste was great. Two completely different senses, made to be synonomus shows just how fabulous Truman really was. Also, he addresses the issue of conversation, and how one can question the whole notion of whether conversation truly exists in a stunning dialouge with himself (or his alter ego). He discusses his dealings with Marilyn Monoroe (whom I don't have much affection for) with the same charm and affection he disscusses an inmate at San Quentin (participant in the Manson Family).
I've now begun Simone de Beauvoir's She's Comes To Stay.
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