HE to Correcting Jeff [posted this morning in “Don’t Lecture Me” comment thread]:
I’ve read and read every day of my life, although to be honest I’m better at reading chapters or portions or halves than entire books. Life often distracts, intervenes. Each and every day I drop a ball, it seems, and fail to catch it on the bounce.
HE’s library list includes John Updike, Don DeLillo, Joan Didion, Cormac McCarthy, Truman Capote, Harper Lee, William Styron, Pauline Kael, Daphne du Maurier, Michael Chabon, Chuck Palahniuk, Robert M. Pursig, Michael Herr, Gore Vidal, the collected essays of Otis Ferguson, damn near all of J.D.Salinger, Joseph Heller, Kurt Vonnegut, Joseph Conrad, et. al., and some of John Steinbeck.
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I’ve read D.H. Lawrence, Henry Miller’s “Tropic of Cancer,” Herman Hesse, Aldous Huxley, Woody Allen’s short stories, Robert Benchley’s stuff, rock legend bios, endless Hollywood histories (David Thomson’s “The Whole Equation”). And occasional throwaway stuff (“The Nine Nations of North America,” Abbie Hoffman’s “Revolution For The Hell Of It”).
I’ve never read “A Tale of Two Cities” but I’ve read “Tom Sawyer” and the Bhagavad Gita (repeatedly) and one or two books by Alan Watts and “The Red Badge of Courage” and “The Final Days” and almost all of Norman Mailer, Tom Wolfe and Hunter S. Thompson.
Why am I taking the time to make the case for my own literacy to a coarse, badgering asshat on a comment thread?
Honest, no–bullshit question: Have you ever read Nick Tosches’ “Dino: Living High in the Dirty Business of Dreams”? I’ve read that book cover to cover TWICE.