Oh, folks, it has been quite a ride the past few weeks. I STILL can’t reveal details (not quite YET), but I am about 5-1/2 pounds heavier from all the stress eating. (If it’s not deep fried, it can’t soak up enough of the stress, you see.)
I am quite far behind in my posting about reading. I did manage to finish two books: Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee by Dee Brown and, as part of Neglected Books reading, Miss Lonelyhearts by Nathanael West.
I will (I hope!) be able to comment in depth about each. Suffice to say, Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee is devastating but brilliant — a must-read! Sadly, part of America’s heritage is ruthless exploitation of people and resources. This book charts one aspect of this — the treatment toward the Indians by white settlers — so affectingly.
Miss Lonelyhearts is also brilliant, in a quirky, odd way. At first, I was quite put off by this book; I found the characters distasteful. But the work grew on me. Quite a feat of writing. I am eager to read the other novella that accompanies this edition, Day of the Locust.
In lieu of analysis on Miss Lonelyhearts (to come later), I want to share something I found on the author, which is quite fascinating:
By a bizarre coincidence, (F.Scott) Fitzgerald and West died on the same weekend in December 1940. West was killed in an automobile accident on December 22, near El Centro, California, with his wife Eileen McKenney. He was recently married, with better-paid script work coming in, and returning from a trip to Mexico. Distraught over hearing of his friend’s Fitzgerald’s death, he crashed his car after ignoring a stop sign. Eileen McKenney become the subject of a book, My Sister Eileen (1938), written by Ruth McKenney, her sister.