In other news, I just finished Pamela, after about eleven hours of reading. Good god, that book did not need to be that long. But at least it got funnier as it went. Possibly not intentionally.
I'm still not done with it -- not until I at least skim some criticism on it, make some notes. Everything I can think of to say about it, about class and gender for the most part, is terribly obvious. I'm sure I'm missing something. But it may have to wait until tomorrow, because I just can't stand to think about this book any more.
Had a wonderful dinner with Debbie Notkin, Jed and Susan yesterday -- potato-leek soup, amazingly fresh steamed artichokes with lemon butter, straight from the farmer's market. Chocolate cake with hand-cranked vanilla ice cream and masses of strawberries. And on the East Coast, I hear they're having brutal snowstorms. I must love Kevin an awful lot to have ever left California...
The conversation over dinner was excellent too; much about gender, masculinity, responsiblity, parental expectations, having children, science fiction, literary foundations, running conventions, plus just a lot of pleasant chitchat. If I lived in the Bay Area again, I'd be tempted to dragoon Debbie into monthly dinners, just so I could pick her very clever brain. And eat her cooking.