*sweats*

[truepenny]

Too hot to work.

Have been lying limply in front of the fan reading The Sibyl in Her Grave. No, not Caudwell's best, but I'm enjoying it.

Have a list as long as my arm of things I ought to be doing.

1. dis. sections on The Tragedy of Bussy D'Ambois and The Revenge of Bussy D'Ambois.


2. Finish The Second Maiden's Tragedy. Ditto Elizabethan Revenge Tragedy.


3. Read a list of books as long as my arm on its own account, starting with Kristeva's Powers of Horror.


4. Finish new novella.


5. Get this plot problem in DL Chapter 5 worked out and get my damn elephants moving over the Alps again.


6. Get sf story in final, polished state for resubmitting.


7. Three other short stories I should be working on.


8. Prepare stories to go out tomorrow.


9. Posts on The Nine Tailors. I haven't forgotten, I promise!


10. Balancing checkbook and other feats of domesticity.

And yet I do none of the above. It's too fucking hot. Also, a headache, which may itself be heat-related. But mostly it's just too. fucking. hot.

Comments

[pameladean]

Personally, I think that forcing oneself to work when the weather is too hot is probably bad for one.

Funny, though; the last time I read all the Caudwell I conceived a profound fondness for Sybil and thought that structurally and in terms of psychological realism it might be her best.

Pamela

[truepenny.livejournal.com]

Now that I've finished it, I'm not really sure one way or the other. Some bits of it were blindingly obvious (that's where I was when I wrote that), while other bits were definitely not. And I agree, actually, that the central situation is profoundly realistic. (I'm trying hard not to commit spoilers--I may need to do another post to talk about this properly.) But it is definitely better than Thus Was Adonis Murdered, which is trying a little too hard to be a bedroom farce at certain moments.

I like all four. Really, I don't think I can pick.