on a decidedly brighter note, i have decided to go decidedly to the library in search of intellectual satisfaction, instead of wandering my house from the living room to the kitchen to the master bedroom to the bottom bunk to the top bunk and back again searching for something to do.
amused look. as such aided by mrwell man's beautifully done up and rather sparse modern reading list i have decided on the following:
Long Day's Journey into Night by Eugene O'Neill
The Iceman Cometh by Eugene O'Neill (only if i cannot find the above)
Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway
similarly, if not the Short Stories of Ernest Hemingway by Ernest Hemingway
or maybe even The Snows of Kilimanjaro by Ernest Hemingway
To The Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf
The Garden Party and Other Stories by Katherine Mansfield
Brave New World by Aldous Huxley
Murder in the Cathedral by T.S. Eliot
and try to borrow the rest of the modern lit texts:
The Great Gatsby
Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad
at the same i wonder whether i can get my hands on more singaporean poetry.
like arthur yap. i think i have become a bit more addicted to the contempory/post-colonialists and modern writers rather than the 19th C writers. They have a lot more dimension and depth and more humanist values as compared to most of the 19th C people, and their texts are more stark, abstract and more diverse than the long windy way that chracterizes most of the Victoreans. however Mrwell man says that modern writing is only between WW1 to WW2 which i hopefully beg to differ. but all the same mrwell man is quite a historic piece of art and the time which he takes in speaking sentences can encompass the evolution of men from amoeba or something. amused look.
on another note, the smell of tea eggs is wafting really suggestively over. and on another sidenote, i shall add some margaret atwood to the list.
Get there by candlelight
