(no subject)

Oh dear. I sense that A Star Called Henry is about to take a turn for the worse. Sigh. Not that it's about to become a bad book, just that it's going to get a lot less fun to read. Things are turning serious, and I suspect that Henry (and by extension, myself) is on his way to getting disillusioned with the Irish Revolution. It makes sense that this should happen; after all, he was only fourteen at the time of the Easter Rebellion and know he's growing up. Of course he's starting to develop a more mature perspective on things, it's only right that he should begin to realize that the leaders of the revolution aren't perfect people and the methods they use are not always perfect methods. This is the appropriate direction for the book to be going in, after all you can't have a coming-of-age story in which the subject doesn't grow up. The only trouble is that I don't want to grow up! I want to go on believing that Michael Collins and de Valera and the rest were morally upstanding visionaries who took over a post office one Easter Monday and led the Irish to freedom. But of course it's not so simple...

Not only am I being cruelly disillusioned by the book, but it's also becoming less of a fun read. Again, it's not becoming less good, it's just no longer a pure pleasure. Reading about young Henry's crazy exploits as a Dublin gutter kid and his early days as a soldier and lady-killer in the revolution was nothing but fun. Now, however, there's a new seriousness to Doyle's writing and I'm filled with a sense of foreboding as I read. I know that things are going to go downhill for Henry, and I don't want to have to wait for it to happen.

And I'm afraid I haven't cooked anything too interesting since my last post. Weeknights don't really lend themselves to that sort of thing. I'm making a vegetable stir-fry tonight, which isn't especially exotic or anything, but it should be good.