Miserable no more

I finished Les Miserables last night. I've been reading it since mid-July.

This book has the worst pacing of any book I have ever read. At least for the first thousand pages. It's not just slow, it's choppy. Teenager-learning-to-drive-a-stick-shift choppy. Hugo is apparently totally unable to resist either a tangent or an info dump. Some of these are amusing (he's very poetic during his rant about monasteries), most are instructive (wanna know about the Battle of Waterloo? how about the history of the Paris sewer system?). But in every case they bring the progress of the novel to a screeching halt.

Things improve greatly around page 1100. And the last 200 pages just zip by. But those first thousand pages or so? I found myself wishing Hugo had a good editor.

Hugo created a wonderful character in Jean Valjean, and his ideas about social justice and mercy are compelling. But I think you can make a case that the musical presents those better than the book.

I am, however, glad that I persevered and read the entire book. What can I say? I'm stubborn that way.

Here are a few quotations that struck me as I read the book.

He declared to himself that he would not doubt, and he began to doubt in spite of himself. To be between two religions, one you have not yet abandoned and another you have not yet adopted, is intolerable; this twilight is pleasant only to batlike souls. Marius was an open eye, and he needed a true light. To him the dusk of doubt was harmful. Whatever his desire to stop where he was and hold fast there, he was irresistibly compelled to continue, to advance, to examine, to think, to go forward. p675

Undoubtedly they seemed very depraved, very corrupt, very vile, very hateful even, but people rarely fall without becoming degraded. Besides, there is a point when the unfortunate and the infamous are associated and confused in a word, a mortal word, les miserables; whose fault is it? And then, when the fall is furthest, is that not when charity should be greatest? p744

He had a square face, a thin and firm mouth, very fierce, bushy grayish whiskers, and a stare that would turn your pockets inside out. You might have said of this stare, that it did not penetrate so much as ransack. p772

There comes an hour when protest no longer suffices; after philosophy there must be action; the strong hand finishes what the idea has sketched. p1127

What a disappointment!

I woke up this morning to the sound of LW crying. I called him into my room and asked him what was wrong.

"I thought today was Christmas!"

I have no idea why he thought today was Christmas, but I can empathize with the disappointment. No tree. No presents. No Christmas fudge. I'd cry too.

It did drive home how differently we experience Christmas as a child and an adult. My first thought was, how could it be Christmas? I'm entirely too well rested. I wasn't up late last night wrapping the last few presents and stuffing the stockings. I'm not wired about whether the kids will like their presents or whether we have enough presents or too many presents. I'm not worn out from baking treats for teachers and attending Christmas concerts and school events. How could it be Christmas?

(Speaking of holidays, Happy Birthday, K!)

I am not a travel agent

I answered the phone a few minutes ago. It was a guest Michael had talked to earlier who wanted a pet-friendly room for three nights this weekend. We are all full on Saturday, but Michael gave him the number of another inn that takes pets.

The caller said, "They only take one pet" and asked if we had the number for ____ Inn. I looked it up and gave it to him. Then he asked if we had a kennel in the area. We do, and I told him the name. He asked if I could look up their phone number.

As it happens, my phone book wasn't at the desk, so I told him I didn't have it on me but he could google it. He seemed somewhat unhappy with that.

Maybe I should have put him on hold and googled it for him, but he is not even staying here.

George Washington did not sleep here

We're full up with leaf peepers tonight, including several rooms of foreigners or recent immigrants. One stopped by just as I was closing up the office.

He asked for bottled water, which we don't have, and I had to reassure him several times that yes, the water in the bathroom faucet was straight from our own well, was tested regularly, and was perfectly good to drink. (Where do these people think bottled water comes from? Or pretends to come from, anyway.)

We've gotten the water question before. But then, as I turned to go, he surprised me.

"So, George Washington's* house is near here? That's what I was told."

No, not here. In fact, there's no real evidence that Washington ever visited our state, although it's possible. We do have a Washington county, but doesn't every state?

I hope he isn't too disappointed.

Moral of the story: Read guidebooks carefully when planning vacations.

* It occurs to me that he might be confusing Washington with Coolidge. I'll have to remember to ask at breakfast tomorrow.

Book list? What book list?

It's official. I did not finish my summer reading list by the end of September.

Some of this is for good reasons. I did a major decluttering, reorganizing, and painting job in our main living space. I'm working more hours at my paid job. I've spent a lot of time catching up on the photo albums. NB's soccer teammates have interesting parents, so I spend time at practices socializing instead of reading.

And some of it is that I've gotten a bit bogged down in Les Mis. I considered switching translations, but the recommended one is an abridgement, and I am stubbornly committed to reading the entire thing. So I persist . . . but slowly.

In the meantime, I'm scared to pick up another book for fear I will never return.

I have a mental deadline for when I would like to finish Les Mis, but it's so pathetic that I'm not going to put it in writing.

I'll let you know when I finish it.

Five things I've learned about plastic surgery

Note: Not for the squeamish.

Tuesday I had two moles on my face removed. Because of their size and location, the removal had to be done by a plastic surgeon. Here are the lessons I've learned so far:

1. Lips don't like to be cut into and do not hesistate to let you know their displeasure by swelling up to a truly amazing size.
2. The bluish tint to the superglue they put over the stitches really enhances the Frankenstein's monster look.
3. The sound and smell of the cauterizer is disturbing even if you can't feel it.
4. Although I am very susceptible to pain medication like Tylenol, Advil, and whatever they use in epidurals, this sensitivity doesn't seem to extend to locally injected numbing agents like they use in plastic surgery and dental work. I need a lot of it, and it wears off quickly.
5. It's unnerving to feel blood running down your face, even if you can't feel the pain of the injury.

The good news is that the swelling has receded enough that I can eat and talk again, and LW has stopped commenting on my stitches every time he sees me.