Muscular Prose

I am sorry. Reading The Road on the train really put me off my game so far as writing about reading Les Misérables at work is concerned. Although I had meant not to apologize or blame. But there I go. I have continued to read Les Misérables at work; at present I am deep within the Saint-Denis volume (4), among the chapters on Slang. The Road I thought was very clever in the end. It also made me cry. The reading of the writing I found deeply unenjoyable but then it wasn't done any favors by sharing my reading days with Les Misérables given that I prefer a more generous writing style anyhow. Child of God which is 35 years older than The Road I read next and liked much better. Now I keep wondering whether Cormac McCarthy believes he's improved.

I suppose he must.