On the phone the other night, Mom mentioned that my current bedside tome, Bill Vollmann’s Europe Central, won the National Book Award for fiction. It clearly deserves it, as thus far I find it to be the most accessible thing of his I’ve yet read. It may be a tad too accessible in a way, as I so enjoyed puzzling out the secrets of The Jamestown Booke, but on the other hand I have had, cumulatively, nearly an hour or so over about three months to read the damn thing as I drop off, so perhaps it’s for the best.
I am quite enjoying it, honestly. Congratulations, Mr. Vollmann! This is but the first oof many valuable celebratory bestowments! Unless, of course, it’s not.