My previous blog on authors I have loved was an enjoyable romp through my memories. I started it intending to briefly comment on V.S. Naipaul's chutzpah and to list some authors that I found tedious.
But as I tried to remember the authors I found unmemorable - oxymoronic attempt, if ever there was one - the authors who have brought me so many hours of enjoyment just kept popping up in my train of thought, like prairie dogs or whack-a-moles.
What started out as a rant became a rave.
Ce'st la vie. (And I still can't do the accent on the 'e'.)
Friday, March 31, 2006
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