Conor Tuohy > Recent Status Updates

This is a fantastic book. This is my rhird book on tbe revolution so I'm kinda inured to the madness of it all but sometimes it still strikes me. What a lunatic bunch of people.

The copy editing errors persist, no rhyme or reason in sight. A terrible cash grab.

This is poor so far. Hopefully, it rallies.

I will clear the backlog come hell or high water.

I need to start calling more people blocks, stones, and worse than senseless things.

Bought tbis thinking it was the ancient history one, not the contemporary one. So far, it's pretty underwhelming.

My reactions to this lurch from a Vienna circle style feeling that anything not empirically verifiable is meaningless to a sense that the continentals can really capture profound insights even if they're not very clear writers.

Overall, I think there are some interesting grains of insight that have to be extracted from a lot of opaque chaff.

He writes more vividly about his recollections as an eight year old, particularly of his mother's cancer, than I can comprehend. I was twenty when I had the same experience, and I couldn't articulate even the ghost of what he could express.

Roscommon and Leitrim produced an artist London or Forence would boast of.

Can't believe I slept this long on short stories as a medium.

These are excellent, more explicitly psychological than McGahern's. However, so far, dealing with a particular tragic circumstance or pathology affecting the protagonist.

A good survey of prosecutors of the nazi programme if it wasn't such dispiriting stuff I'd read his main historical trilogy.

I read "Along the Edges" and "Swallows" today.

Both capture a kind of melancholy I've felt recently, though, not as extremely as the characters thank god.

Even though he doesn't leaven it, there's something therapeutic in seeing some sadness of yours rendered so perfectly and recognisably by some Leitrim genius forty years ago.

He's got it, the spiritual fragrance, the true parnassian note, the talent, whatever it is, he's got it.

The diggers and the levellers and the revolutionaries generally are really giving me a much better opinion of the British character.

What a diva.

Exams and worse have their claws in me until Easter so its alow going. Moments of lucid brilliance interspersed with absolute incomprehensibility.

Even the lucid bits, while they feel insightful, don't feel *true* in an analytical way, they just kinda capture the mood of a feeling or response to something inaightfully if that makes sense?

It's early in the day (it's set over one day's worth of orbits), but I'm a little underwhelmed. It's really excellent prose at points, but suffers a little from a lack of much outside of descriptive power?

I think it's probably fairly damning that when it strays to the feelings of the characters and their responses to an incredible (in a literal way) setting, it has (ironically) felt very navel-gazy.

I am back in my "reciprocally reading childhood touchstones" era , and I'm enjoying myself.

The man still can not bring himself to write a human relationship more compellingly than he does a kind of werewolf's relationship with his wolf friends, but sure look, we all have our faults.

Coherence is at a premium, but I knew what to expect. Wild that this is considered his most "analytical" work. There are moments when he completely loses the thread, and I think that the logical positivists were right, it is all dross.

However, there are other moments where he gives a form to a kind of latent thought or way of thinking that's really striking.