Thursday 31st January 2019, 12.40pm (day 2,716)
Up and about again today, though not very far nor very energetically. This is the kind of vibe I am trying to affect at the moment.
When I started doing this blog on 26/8/2011 Joe was nine years, five months and twenty-two days old. His first appearance was a few days in, sat in the Railway and looking really very small. Not any more. I guess he hasn’t reached his complete adult form yet, he is not fifteen for a few weeks, but he cannot be far off. This is his ninety-ninth appearance on the blog. Doubtless I will find good reason to mark the next one.
Finally made it home, 24 hours behind schedule, and just before landing finished this for the umpteenth time. I know pretty much exactly when I bought this book — April 1989 at a gas station in Pennsylvania. As you can see, it’s certainly seen some attention since then. And rightly so; in my opinion it’s definitely one of the greatest novels ever written. If you’ve never read it, you really should.
As being uploaded on the train to Manchester this morning, by the inefficient but highly effective data collection form known as ‘reading’. The book in the background, by the way, belongs to my fellow Manchester academic Mike, whose surname I can never remember but who teaches English & American literature so reads things far more obscure than my relatively populist novel.