Cultural vultural....

I do not like the look of my blog, currently, and realise it isn't at its most accessible either. Sorry. I keep meaning to sort it out, but when I think of how long I spent on it last time, and how little it looks like I hoped it would, I lose motivation and get myself some cake.....

I've struck very lucky with books lately - mostly as they have been recommended by the wise women in my book group I suppose - although I found The Bell by Iris Murdoch and Oracle Night by Paul Auster (which I'm currently reading) all by myself. The two books I'd been recommended by book group were Oryx and Crake and Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides. I'd had my eye on Middlesex for a while and been intrigued by the subject matter - gender ambiguity - but put off by the fact that The Virgin Suicides, Eugenides first book has been made into the Worst Film Ever Made. Seriously. But I absolutely loved all of Middlesex. The characters have depth, the story has a good pace, the scenarios are sufficiently complex to add depth without being either too predictable or obscure, and its funny in places. I'm even tempted to read The Virgin Suicides. But don't watch the film.

In other cultural news, I also saw Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom for the first time last weekend. Magnificent!