Speaking of my library...

Last night I visited my stash of old textbooks. After a few moments of fretting, I picked up The Picture of Dorian Grey. I love this book to bits. For those not in the know, here's the quickie version of the story. (If you do know this book, please excuse my slang and unintentional errors):

Basically, from what I recall...TPoDG is about Dorian, an evil hottie who owns an enchanted portrait of himself. It stays in a hidden room of his house and acts as an unusual preservative--specifically, everyone in Dorian's world ages, while he remains young. Meanwhile his portrait gets premature wrinkles, and bags, and sags...Basically, it doesn't get ugly. It gets fugly. Which it should, because from what I remember, Dorian's a pompous jerk of the highest order. (Believe me. That's nicer than what I really wanted to call him.)

*SLIGHT SPOILER ALERT*










Thankfully in Dorian's case, his picture isn't a thing of beauty forever. He gets his. But I won't say how.

Besides--I can't remember the details. But it was good.

So, why Dorian?

It's the ultimate tale of hubris gone wrong. It's funny, spooky, and intriguing as hell. And Oscar Wilde writes with such intelligence and effortless, infinite beauty....If I could've, I would've married him.

As for my other bits and pieces...Right now I'm going through a phase of re-reading. I'm trying not to borrow anything from the library unless it's Canadian Literature--which I have very little of. It certainly looks like I won't have to. When it comes to the "Classics", my cups runneth over.

While I was looking last night, I was slightly ashamed: I have an embarrassing number of "big name" books that I purchased just for the sake of having. These, combined with my never or partially-read textbooks, are overwhelming.

Among my goodies I noted that I have...

1. The Bluest Eye - The only Toni Morrison novel that I have every truly, deeply loved. Apart from the lead character's terrible experiences of abuse, I lived it. I spent nearly all of my early childhood wondering why I wasn't white, thinking of how my life would be easier that way...Wondering why the hell God would make me a part of a culture that people enjoy mocking.

2. Yet another Keats anthology. Full of his fantabulous poetry. Since I have two, I figure I should pass one on to a friend...

3. Tom Jones. I never finished it, but if I remember it correctly, like the singer, he was popular with the ladies. :-P

4. Martin Chuzzlewit. The. Juiciest. Dickens. Novel. Ever! Maybe something's wrong with me. But I think this is the only book of his that I have ever appreciated. Believe me. I have others. And I was either a) too young to value them when they were foisted upon me...Or, b) in the case of the books I bought for fun, I couldn't sit still long enough to be interested in what was going on. Unfortunately I never finished Chuzzlewit. And that's a shame because it was hella-funny. Sorry, Dr. Higgins.

Plus, Jude the Obscure (finished), Their Eyes Were Watching God (finished), Don Quixote (started it), Vanity Fair (ditto), two Shakespeare anthologies (I only read what I had to), and countless others.

You know, I think of the times I've promised myself that I'm gonna give up television. With all the books I have yet to discover, I don't really have an excuse.