Sunday

Ignoring all issues and frets; just keeping ourselves fit. Eliot's novel Romola is slowly winding itself up, with deft clues dropped along the way as to the true nature of "the shipwrecked stranger." He promises to be a hateful character, in the same league as Henleigh Mallinger Grandcourt in Daniel Deronda,or maybe worse, since he feigns such an attractive shell. As in Middlemarch, there is at least one character mired in incomprehensible, convoluted "scholarly" work which is spun entirely out of his ego; again I marvel at Eliot's ability to create these bizarre and maddening fellows. This is no bodice ripper, rather a meaty peculiar piece of work.
We were visited briefly by our son and one of his friends, who showed us a couple of glimpses into the Second Life phenomenon. I don't need to see any more.