I finished read Hahn Malsook's Chant melodieux des ames, and it started to remind me of Mrs. Dalloway, with the lover's suicide and the hearing of the protagonist's thoughts. It is a step down from stream of consciousness from Woolfe, just as Woolfe is a step down (thank goodness) from Joyce. I also read Vent du Nord Est, by Othman Kelantan, a novel translated from the Malay. Malay novels are not yet 100 years old, it's amazing, and this was a pastoral, the sad story of a fisherman who struggles to feed his family and dies in a storm. I also read Hiltu et Ragna, Sillapaa's novella of a suicide. Yes, it was up with people at our house last night.
Finally, I read two essays, Delighted States by Adam Thrilwell -- this is a post-modern essay with drawings and pictures and chapters called books, and interjections by the author, about the problems of translating great works of art -- and The Dumbest Generation, by Mark Bauerlein-- predictably slaying the impact of technology on capacity to read.
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