A Bite To Eat

For lunch I made barbecued chicken and a big salad. Ate a barbecue sandwich on a whole-wheat bun, yum. Then couldn't eat any more, but I'll have the salad later. This cold seems to have pared down my appetite, at least.

Book Club meets Friday at the library. The book is Atonement, which I've already read. Jean Mock is the hostess and she chose the book. I need to look over it again.

When you read nonfiction, presumably you're reading about someone or something that you already care about, to one degree or another. But when I read a novel, I want to find myself beginning to care what happens to at least one character, beyond the general well-wishing to humanity. To care deeply, if not passionately. I can't help it if I didn't find such a character in Atonement. And that's why I can't remember anything about Mable's book Matters of Chance. That's nothing against Jean or Mable, two of my favorite people in all the world. It's just the way I read books.

Even in the ghost story, The Beckoning Fair One, although you couldn't love the ghost or the protagonist, I could almost cry for Elsie Bengough.

That's one reason I liked The Shining, and read it more than once. More than twice. I cared about the little boy and the black man. While I read The Stand one-and-a-half times, I don't remember anything much about it, except an old black woman sitting on the porch and people all over the country trying to get to her. I'm sure she was OK, but I don't remember having much of an opinion of her or anyone else in that book. I don't even remember anyone else in that book.

That's not saying that Atonement, Matters of Chance and The Stand are no good. It just means they didn't push my buttons.