Booked

I finally got Michael Cunningham's Specimen Days in the mail today! Celebration! It only took entirely too long! So now I can begin to blog about reading! Well, not now exactly, since I haven't read a page yet. But if I get around to it tonight then tomorrow I can! I know everyone's been holding their breath.

I have unreasonably high expectations for the book, even after reading the mixed reviews. I've been a fan of Cunningham's since Flesh & Blood came out way back when, and I love him even when he's star-fucking Julia Roberts in Entertainment Weekly.

I actually had the honor of having dinner with him and some of my friends a couple years ago, before the film of The Hours came out and he became irrevocably connected to Nicole Kidman's fake nose, and he came off as incredibly friendly and funny.

I, of course, being me, came off as a mute alcoholic, which is what happens with real life people around me, especially if one of those real life people is pretty much my idol. I tried desperately to drink myself into a comfort zone but just ended up drunk and silent. Yes, yes, I should probably contact AA, or start idolizing Dylan Thomas instead.

Anyway, Michael Cunningham writes like I only wish I could, with an economy and grace I don't even come close to mustering. He makes the worst things absolutely beautiful, and the beautiful even more so.

So yeah, pedastal and all.
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