Having read ten pages of Finnegan’s Wake a day since January 1, I am now done, surprisingly not because I gave up but because I got to page 628 in my copy and that’s the end, although it goes back to the beginning, so I guess I’m supposed to start again? I’m not going to, not least of all because I have a migraine right now and won’t even remember typing this tomorrow.
I said it was like reading white noise way back at the beginning. I haven’t varied in that. Sometimes it seemed okay. Sometimes I had an idea of what was going on. The whole ending eight pages I read today put me in the mood of the ending pages of Infinite Jest, on a beach, an awakening, or a wakening, or does it really matter? I don’t really understand what I was reading and I kind of wish I’d spent my time doing something else.
Now and then I liked the rhythm. Like listening to modern classical music like Stravinsky or theremins. Or sigur ros. But really, I like pop music and I’m always going to choose to read books with discernible plots over Finnegan’s Wake.
Geoff is impressed. I suppose that’s something.