i finally got around to finishing "white teeth" by zadie smith, mainly thanks to a lot of reading time on the beach. (what's better?) the book is just a masterpiece, plain and simple. she's a crazy talented writer and just puts the most beautiful sentences down on the paper. she kills me. the story is about two families living in a 1980s London suburb... and it spirals out from there. it really ventures deep into topics dealing with immigrants and their loss of identity... it's profound enough to transpire just thatcher-era london.
now that i'm done with that, i'm moving onto "the crying of lot 49" by thomas pynchon. i've already red "mason and dixon" by him. this is NOTHING like that. "crying" reminds me more of the surrealness of samuel beckett (i'm no scholar! believe me. but i did read one of his plays en francais as a student). i also really dug heller and vonnegut, so i'm hoping pynchon will be a tasty treat for me.
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