Currently reading...

My Mrs Dalloway (1925; this ed. 2000) copy I copped for ten bucks

I'm sitting on page 35 of 165.  It has been a slow read thus far as the narration itself is both here and there.  The last five or so pages read have finally introduced me to the mortality conscious nature of the novel; yes, this is subject matter that can be grey and intimidating but it's never too early in the day to contemplate life and agency.  

I watched The Hours earlier today, it is based off Virginia Woolf's depression and eventual suicide as well as the story of Mrs Dalloway and its connection to three generations, Woolf's included.  I liked the depiction and foresee how it will positively affect the duration of my reading.  The writing, as expected, is splendid indeed.

Seeds in the Black Earth (1988)

The above is a South African compiled anthology worth nearly 200 hundred pages of glorious, glorious poetry edited by a certain Brenda O'Brien... A book I happened to happen upon in my parents' library during the recent holidays.  The works span both the domestic and international, contemporary and classic.

I wonder if I'd be as committed to literature were it not for my folk and the literary environment they raised me in.  Whenever I visit home I discover a new world of wonder they had paved for me (and my siblings, of course) — 'tis a gratitude infinite.