books and old schools

I've finished both books I was reading. I would say more about Dan Brown's Inferno, but I think two entries on him and his style are enough. Besides, I have nothing more to say on the subject, except perhaps that it was a good book, about as similar to his earlier works as it is possible to be without becoming totally formulaic. Psmith, Journalist by Wodehouse was excellent, as are all of Wodehouse's works. This being one of his earlier novels (1909), and in addition published in installments, as was the habit of lettered men back in the olden days, it did seem at the start a little desultory - as if Wodehouse was making it up as he went along. Certain episodes seemed unduly emphasized, and certain others seemed almost irrelevant. I suppose that's rather a harsh criticism to make of a book whose purpose is to be funny, and as I make it I can feel my glasses sliding down my nose to that most ominous position from which critics peer at their prey. But toward the end we were back on track, and I withdrew my earlier reservations. It was as brilliant as any of his novels. As it happens, this might have been my thirty-first Wodehouse novel. (I for the life of me can't remember whether I finished the thirtieth.) Now on to Empire by Gore Vidal, No. 4, I think, in his Narratives of Empire series. The only two books in this series I haven't read yet are unfortunately not available at the Kindle store, so I will have to buy the print version. Fortunately, there appear to be two most generous sellers on Amazon who are willing to sell these two books for a total price of eleven cents. Used, of course, but in my experience, Amazon's quality ratings have been accurate.

I have four more weeks left at my job. I wish I could go back home for a bit before school starts, but that would be impractical. I like my house in India and the city in which it's located. We've lived there for over eight years now, and it's been a singularly good experience, notwithstanding the numerous troubles we have had over the years with the waterproofing. The city itself is one of the more tolerable cities in India (if not the most tolerable). I'm not exactly a mall person, but there are two or three malls that I do enjoy visiting and walking around, even if I don't buy or eat anything. The swarms of people can generally be ignored once you've passed the first wave that hits you as you enter. There's always December, I suppose. And in January, especially after what I wrote in my last entry, I think it would be an excellent idea to pay a visit to that old school of mine, and visit teachers who are still there, as I understand a lot are. The principal is still there, even though she's 82 this year. She's been the principal since the school's inception in 1991, except for the period between 2002 and 2006, when she went to visit her children in the United States, and has been in the teaching business since the 50's. Two episodes regarding her that stand out in my memory are the time when Nanochip and I skipped archery class in the eighth grade by pretending we wanted to know about the history of the Jews and the time when Nanochip and I skipped archery class in the eighth grade by pretending we wanted to know about the history of the Egyptians. She indulged us both times, and gave us one of her erudite commentaries on the subject, words rolling off her learned tongue like knowledge overflowing from an urn. (Whatever that means.) She could also be snarky sometimes. Once when a classmate of mine asked why she kept a rubber ball on her desk, she said, "I play with it." In fact she had confiscated it from a student. When I visited her later to have my transcripts signed and stamped for my college applications, she offered me tea in her office, and said that we no longer had to follow the formalities between teachers and students. The only veteran teacher who isn't there, who left right as we graduated, is the math teacher, affectionately named, variously, the Vampire and the Supermodel by Nanochip and me in the eighth grade. 'Tis a pity.