has slowed the pace of my reading endeavours. I usually read a few different books at once, and right now I’m working my way through Camoën’s The Lusiads, the major epic poem of Portugal; the complete Sherlock Holmes stories (currently on Hound of the Baskervilles, where we’ve just discovered Stapleton’s ill-doings); and Mansfield Park, which I’m loving immensely. I spent most of this week sleeping though, or dragging my way through work/meetings/chores, and feel like I’ve lost a lot of momentum. With Sherlock Holmes that’s fine, because I can put the books down between stories, but with the Camoën’s it’s devastating, because I’m having trouble engaging with the colonialist narrative to begin with.
Really looking forward to getting back to Mansfield Park in a serious way though. Thankfully this cold is nearly done.
18 October 2014