Ah, from the glorious highs of adult education to the abysmal lows. My class this morning was two people. I was teaching our electronic databases to them. Both were late, neither had strong internet skills, one kept woolgathering even though I was right next to him the whole time.
If it's free, it's worthless. Right?
Reading: Galilee, by Clive Barker, which I actually started reading years ago for Books to Remember, a list NYPL puts out every year. There were more memorable books, so I put it down again. I do like Clive Barker's books, though, and I am just now catching up.
I should say I generally like Clive Barker's books. I think Imajica and Weaveworld were more imaginative, and Sacrament was more thoughtful. I am finding myself alternately drawn in and bored by Galilee . The crushing load of detail reminds me of Anne Rice. The fetishization of the American setting (I mean, really the magicalization, not the abjectification) reminds me of American Gods, which I also think is a better book, because, fatness aside, it didn't dawdle so much. Also, my personal sympathies lie more with Gaiman's generally schlubby, hard pressed, working class gods than Barker's apotheotic gods. We shall see.
I think, however, having to put this down in '98 made me leary of picking up Abarat. Is that my loss?