Back to York

And so I find myself back in . . . York, in an unreasonably busy and noisy library. For real, there are men with drills and everything, and a strange kind of outside lift thing which makes a siren noise every time it moves. Granted, that is pretty cool, but it's so damn loud! This blog post is my attempt to stray away from trauling through pretensive books about J.M.Coetzee, and the 'South African Problem' - not that I'm implying that there isn't a problem, but I just can't get into it. I am coming to realise that Disgrace, by Coetzee, is probably one of the most complex novels I've read. It masquerades under this subtle clarity of style, as something straightforward and plain to see. But it raises all these different questions about the characters, questions which contradict each other but have to be considered simultaneously. And the sentences are so simple that you feel inclined to question them. I'm sure there is still a lot going on beneath the text that I simply can't see. Blerugh. I seriously can't wait until this essay is out of the way... you have no idea, this book is frying my brain. Anyway, I will be spending the next week living in the house alone (maybe not something you should admit on the internet?) Already I am convinced that there are many ghosts in my house and that someone must be turning lights on when I'm asleep. Well, hopefully I'll survive. More concerning is the fact of having little human contact. I'll see how it goes.
But for now, back to work.
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THIS IS NOT AN EXIT