(no subject)

Well, I'm still reading A Star Called Henry, and I really like it. It's reminding me a lot of Midnight's Children by Salman Rushdie, which I also really enjoyed. Both books deal with the history of a nation through the life of a character who somehow manages to be a true everyman, and yet to have an extraordinary knack for being present at all the crucial places and times of his age. A bit like Forrest Gump, now that I think about it, although totally different in tone and effect. Hmm. That was not the comparison that I was going for. Nonetheless, both Rushdie and Doyle have used that method with really extraordinary results. I loved Midnight's Children, but I'm finding that I'm having an even stronger reaction to Henry due to the fact that the history in question is the history of Ireland. As I read it I can't help but imagine my grandfather as Henry, surviving poverty and starvation, getting mixed up in the Easter Rebellion, standing next to de Valera... Of course this is patently ridiculous, because my grandfather was born in Syracuse NY to a family that had been in America for quite a few years. But somehow I can't avoid the romance of imagining it. Dreaming of a distant, hopelessly romanticized past? Gosh, I guess I really am Irish.

In culinary news, I made an excellent roasted tomato and onion soup last night. Very good and very warming, which is certainly necessary in weather like this! And I'm cooking my specialty tonight: pasta with vegetables sauteed in pesto and romano cheese. Yum.