Finished!

Well, I finally got through the last 25 pages of Under the Volcano last night. I had been putting them off, as I often do with good books that also happen to be depressing; it's hard enough to say goodbye to a book you've actually enjoyed reading, let alone one that you know is also going to make you want to hurl things into the existential void, cursing it for not being a god of some sort. But I forced it down last night, and it was decidedly worth it.

The book was not only beautiful and compelling, it was also curiosity-inducing. The kind where, when you finish, you actually WANT to go back and read the introduction. The kind where you spend some time searching around on Wikipedia et al. for mentions of Maximilian & Carlota, mescal, vultures, William Blackstone, and Popocatepetl. The kind that spurs compulsive literary critic wannabes (yes, I do fall into this category) to begin drafting thesis ideas.

So, thanks, Malcolm. Sorry it took depression and fatal substance abuse problems, but you did indeed manage to produce a work of near-genius. (I tend to keep "genius" open for Shakespeare and Dali ... but Lowry is on deck to be considered, along with Faulkner.)

Next on my list to read? Well, 110 high school essays about The Great Gatsby, at the moment. What a way to ruin a perfect book. After that, who knows? Will update after the grammar-ignorant masses enlighten me on what the green light REALLY stands for.