I'm reading Claire Tomalin's biography of Dickens, taking my time and trying to avoid eye strain. I would recommend this book to Jed, or anyone else wanting to read about Dickens, instead of my favorite, the voluminous biography by Peter Ackroyd. Tomalin's book seems so far to have all the facts and much of the art, without the creepy feeling you're left with after reading Ackroyd.
I have lost or misplaced two things and more completely wrecked my house looking for them. One is a china doll's head, male and miniature, broken off from the shoulder plate, that looked slightly like Charles Dickens. I want to use it for the new Daddy that I aim to make for the dollhouse. The other is a miniature jade Foo dog with a mahogany stand.
The load of vegetables that I bought the other day to grill, roast or stir-fry has provided me with four or five meals, and I'm almost tired of squash, mushrooms, et al. But not of onions. The onions and green peppers were the best of all. I mostly roasted them with salt, lemon pepper, black pepper, and a dash of Italian dressing.
The title of this blog post is after George Orwell's book Dickens, Dali and Others. I don't remember Orwell saying very much about Dickens. I mostly remember that in Kipling and other artists and authors, he thought he found traces of Naziism.
2 comments:
I do want to read that biography when you are finished with it. It got a great review in the Economist, too.
Envy your roasted vegits. I had a good lunch, though - a steak at a Mexican restaurant, with roasted vegitables.
I have been planning for some time to read a Dickens bio. He's one of my favorite authors, and I should have read a bio by now.
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