#35 & #38: The good, the bad and the snuggly

Despite being reassured by the helpful mid-book advertising (yesterday's teaser post) that Beardsley's Under the Hill was a book for "people with tastes like yours" I have to admit to a sense of disappointment with the prose of this otherwise fine visual artist. It was terrible. As in, one of the worst books I've ever read - almost to the point of hilarity. Ok, I admit, I was laughing when I wasn't staring at the book in complete disbelief. Now, I'm not exactly a connoisseur of erotica, but I'm fairly certain that this book failed in that department as spectacularly as it failed at being even a semi-serious attempt at literature. In all fairness, Beardsley was likely inspired by Bulwer-Lytton but that doesn't excuse anything. I might save the book just in case I ever have the need for truly atrocious quotations.

Infinitely better was #38, Rushdie's The Enchantress of Florence. This was a lush and sensual work (occasionally interrupted by surprising accurate but incredibly dull historical accounts) that succeeded at being florid without being fussy. It was perfect for a cover-to-cover read through while wrapped up in the comfy chair with a cup of chai. That's the extent of what I am going to say about the book though. Hopefully those who choose to read it will know as little about it as I did when they begin. I think that's the best way. I was a little taken aback to find myself on familiar ground, mmrrph... Alright, I'll say no more.

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