Dear Kafka: Where are you?
I seemed to have misplaced The Trial.
I spent all day yesterday and the day before finishing this latest book for Book Club. I had started it and read 50 pages before falling into a horrible depression about how someone with a) no sense for plotting b) no ability to develop character and c) horrific writing skills can publish one of the most popular books in America right now. It’s insane!!! But I was committed to finishing it, so I waited to start on Kafka.
But now that my boy is napping and I have some time to read….there is NO KAFKA anywhere. I’m sure Elliott picked it up and carried it around somewhere. He has been prone to taking books off of our shelf and walking them around the house. Last week’s favorite was Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale…this week he found himself some John Irving. And yesterday he flipped through twenty pages of Dante’s Inferno before getting distracted by a half-eaten piece of dog-food.
Not knowing where this book is has turned me into some sort of addict searching for a fix. My brain right now sounds like this: Have-time-to-read-must-read-where-is-the-book-not-here-not-here-not-here-not-here-boy-is-going-to-wake-up-losing-precious-reading-time-why-does-God-hate-me-should-I-read-something-else-no-can’t-must-stick-to-challenge-find-Kafka-Kafka-Kafka-Kafka.
February is officially over on Monday and while I’m on track to finish, I was really hoping to gulp down some Kafka and finish it by tomorrow. I guess if I can’t find him, I’ll settle for finding something else productive to do…like clean my car, or pick-up the house. Or shower. Yeah, now that I think about it…showering is probably good for everyone.