Royal Review

I begrudgingly admit that Eat, Pray, Love was not all bad. A little cheesey, and I little metaphor-happy, but actually pretty good. And that’s something, coming from someone (hi! Me!) who was prepared to poo-poo it.

It is exactly what you expect; if you read the summary, there are no surprises. Still, she spins a good story, and she has you seriously considering giving up your wordly possessions to go live in Bali by the end of the novel, which is always a mark of a good book, in my opinion.

It was a little longer than I expected, the pages are thin and the type is deceptively small (in that it doesn’t LOOK small, but it takes a fair amount of time [relatively] to read one page, and you have a headache after each reading… [either that, or I’ve just been spending too much time with my Excel spreadsheets, recently,]) but I kind of like that. I feel like a lot of modern literature is written for our ADD culture, it’s all quick and wit is crammed into every sentence so that the developmental editor can then pare down the minimalist story still further until only the witty bones are left because that’s all the time any ADD reader has to devote to the story. Sometimes I think a little meandering character background is endearing. And it makes you work for it. Kind of like a Jane Austen novel. There’s a lot of drivel, to finally get to the love story that was meant to be, by the end of the book. But the drivel quietly endears you to a character, and by the end, you truly feel like you’ve gone on quite a journey with the character, and are truly invested in their prudish, 19th century English love.

Not that Eat, Pray, Love was prudish or 19th century. No, it was very me, me, me, why don’t you love me, NOW, but it moved at a good place and really told you enough about the setting that you became invested, and I liked that.

And… I’m done. Pass the chardonnay.

Meanwhile The Funasaurus and I have scored tickets to the World Series, despite the debacle you may have read about, because we qualified to get tickets a day early on Sunday, because we were technically season ticket holders, for buying our little 25-game-pack! Hooray! Sitting through those long days of intense sunlight and overpriced beer were worth it! I’m going to a Very Important Game! Go Kaz Matsui (I have no idea if I spelled that right. But I dearly love saying his name.)

We also saw a play this weekend. (Go culture!) It was billed as a “haunting thriller” though since there was a severe lack of ghosts, blood, and Things That Make You Jump, we deemed it not at all a “haunting thriller” so much as a “talky, well-acted dark drama with a Very Naked Dude in it” (hello, limp penis!) And also “some Christ-y-action.”

Today Is The Funasaurus’ birthday, so HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BABY, even though you no longer read this! I love you very much, and also it totally was me who ate the last ice cream sandwich, but I think it’s funny that you think you did and didn’t notice. Can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. Mwah.