on my iPod. A sudden craze. I just listened to Kate Chopin The Awakening, a book I have started and never got anywhere with I don’t know how many times. It sucked me in, or its mood did, this time. The narrator read with a standard American accent, but did all the voices with a Louisiana drawl. I’m not sure what this added to or detracted from the whole. I’d have to actually read the text to see if there is a different feel to it without the drawl.
Now downloading Classic Russian Short Stories (Pushkin, Gogol, Turgenev, Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy and Chekhov), which will make me want to ride the Trans-Siberian express for two weeks, which is one of those idle but aching fancies I have had ever since I read War and Peace and watched Dr. Zhivago (even though I understood almost nothing in both at the time), and which returns whenever I get even the faintest sniff of Russian literature, which I suppose makes me a vile and shallow stereotyper for whom the angels rightfully weep; and Kafka’s Metamorphosis which won’t make me want to rush off to do anything sterotypically Czech but is one of those “I really must read that one day” books whose time seems to have come. Maybe.