So my interweb crapped out since about past Friday and aside from some brief stints at the library to check things, I really lacked the time for blogging. It's back now after Verizon sent me a new modem and in the meantime I did things like read Ethan Frome.
I'm going to give it a generous D+, and that's because, as I've been mentioning a lot this evening, I am in a shitty mood. I think I referenced in here earlier Marcel Proust's discussion of madeleines (probably not even referenced in that link) and the strong association of taste with memory. Basically he eats some madeleines and it reminds him of having tea with his grandmother or something, with "or something" being a blanket statement to cover my ass because I could be remembering this entirely incorrectly. The point is, that today I saw something, that looked like something else, that reminded me of something unpleasant, that set in motion a whole string of thoughts in my head that made me furious.
Aside from that, Edith Wharton just doesn't do enough to convince me of the bond between Ethan and Mattie to make the story as tragic as I think people want it to be. Or it could just be because I'm in a shitty mood. At least it's short. I wonder if my switch to reading Updike will be an improvement.