Robinson, Barnes, Horowitz

I read Joseph Horowitz's Artists in Exile, and I found lots of entertaining tidbits in it, like Stokowski created his own persona (he was born and raised in London), and Charlie Chaplin's terrible early years.

But it is a rare pleasure to read two really good books in a row, and I just have. Marilynne Robinson's Gilead is an undiluted pleasure, and I can only add my compliments to its many plaudits. Julian Barnes' Nothing to be Afraid Of is a meditation on death, a topic I have had much reason to think over lately, and it is both literary and intelligent and informative. OK, so I found out that many writers in the 19th century France died of syphilis, and also that Barnes disliked his mother. But it was a wonderful read and I devoured it too.

I have also read an issue of The New Yorker and an issue of Eclectic Reading. I just started the complete works of Voltaire, starting with the theatre.