...studying French full time and Swedish full time really steals all my time, but since the French have started to replace my English I thought it best to counteract it in the ways that I can, writing on forums being one.
So I decided to give Moby Dick another take... It's hard enough with the English but if someone finished it - exactly how much it digresses ?
That rather much depends on what you mean by "digresses". The whaleology (or what he calls it) will surge from time to time. It can be annoying, but for me it was all worth it. Heck, "The Symphony" by itself makes it all worth it.
Due to aforementioned reasons I don't have much time to read these days, but I have at least managed to smile myself through Endgame and re-found this old jewish joke, remade wonderfully by Beckett:
"Raconteur's voice.)
An Englishman, needing a pair of striped trousers in a hurry for the New Year festivities, goes to his tailor who takes his measurements.
(Tailor's voice.)
"That's the lot, come back in four days, I'll have it ready." Good. Four days later.
(Tailor's voice.)
"So sorry, come back in a week, I've made a mess of the seat." Good, that's all right, a neat seat can be very ticklish. A week later.
(Tailor's voice.)
"Frightfully sorry, come back in ten days, I've made a hash of the crotch." Good, can't be helped, a snug crotch is always a teaser. Ten days later.
(Tailor's voice.)
"Dreadfully sorry, come back in a fortnight, I've made a balls of the fly." Good, at a pinch, a smart fly is a stiff proposition.
(Pause. Normal voice.)
I never told it worse.
(Pause. Gloomy.)
I tell this story worse and worse.
(Pause. Raconteur's voice.)
Well, to make it short, the bluebells are blowing and he ballockses the buttonholes.
(Customer's voice.)
"God damn you to hell, Sir, no, it's indecent, there are limits! In six days, do you hear me, six days, God made the world. Yes Sir, no less Sir, the WORLD! And you are not bloody well capable of making me a pair of trousers in three months!"
(Tailor's voice, scandalized.)
"But my dear Sir, my dear Sir, look
(disdainful gesture, disgustedly)
at the world
(Pause.)
and look
(loving gesture, proudly)
at my TROUSERS!"
The whole piece can be found here:
http://samuel-beckett.net/endgame.html for anyone with an hour left to kill.
Will hopefully come back with more substantial posts soon.