Somehow, before I even started on my current (very slow) Dorothy Sayers thing, I ended up reading this spoilery post about Unnatural Death. Normally, my brain latches onto spoilers in a hentai-tentaclish manner and ruins my life *forever*, but I’ve been slowly working my way through the book for the past week without ever making the connection.
But I finished it an hour ago at work, all like, “I’ve read this bef – wait, is this the book that ends with *that* really *cool* scene? …*But why.*” So when I got back to the room, I googled a couple lines from the end to figure out where I’d read it before.
(and was kind of like, whoa, because I’d apparently been reading Ms. Monette’s LiveJournal way back months and months ago, before I read her book and I think before I even started my own LiveJournal, and I’d only just now added her to my flist, and yeah, that’s not the issue at hand here)
I guess I’m some sort of test case for her point – I read the ending, thought it was really neat, subsequently forgot *where* I’d read it, read the book, thought it was pretty neat most of the way, and *still* suspected naught until I finished it. This ending doesn’t belong to this book.
It makes me feel all smug when I have the same reaction to a book as smart people. Throughout it I’d been kind of going, Hm, Wimsey, weren’t you having a moral crisis a second ago, from whence springeth the *ultra-flippancy*? Hey, that was pretty dark, just now, but here Miss Climpson’s being goofy with punctuation marks again, and the contrast’s not anything like pointy enough to balance it out right. (And then I also went, Eh, I put up with Penguin Brothers, this is nothing. And then there was the ending and I went like, Oh this is *so just like* Penguin Brothers. Which is probably not a comparison that normal and well-adjusted people make.) The book was just off-balance in general; I think it is cranky.
Apropos of *everything*, I’ve got no idea how I’m supposed to go to sleep in here. I’ve got the window open and the fan on high, but the room is still suffocating. If the dorm were to catch fire, I would not be able to do that “touch the door to see if it’s warm” thing, because my door’s been warm for days. It is a wooden door, it doesn’t conduct heat well enough for that to be an okay thing. I know that violence isn’t the answer, but I may have to at least, you know, leave something malodorous and reddish in hue on phys plant’s doorstep.