But she winced in pain every time I called her Landlady, and you can't let opportunities like that pass by.
Must have been an english teacher at some point, because one day there was a pile of books on our doorstep. A magnificent stack, none of which I had previously read:
Cat's Cradle - Kurt Vonnegut
Dandelion Wine - Ray Bradbury
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance - Robert Pirsig
Lord of the Flies - William Golding
It has been many moons since our glorious eighteen months renting her apartment we lovingly called "The Shack".
I gradually completed and returned each book. I finished the final book from the pile yesterday. Hemingway's "For Whom The Bell Tolls".
It was pretty heavy to read, but only because of the amazing descriptions Ernie lays out. He paints a picture of War that is graphic and brutal, but feels genuine and honest, not exaggerated nor glorified (see Nicholas Cage in 'Windtalkers')
I had been dissecting the Hunter S. Thompson bibliography, with a hearty dosage of music & sports autobiographies, but that was before my involuntary enrollment in the Landladies Against Illiteracy program. I'm not sure where to go from here. I like books.
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