I worry sometimes about my sense of humour.When I saw this it made me laugh out loud.
And then there is slapstick. I always disdained Mr Pastry, Charlie Chaplin, and Abbott and Costello when I was young, but now, if I am watching an ordinary sitcom, and there is an unexpected shot of slapstick, it cracks me up. Like this, and this.
And then there is Home, the latest Marilynne Robinson novel, which won the Orange prize, and the cover of which is a quote from a critic “the saddest book I have ever loved.” I have been reading Home for a couple of weeks. It is taking me a long time, because I cannot read more than ten pages at a time. It is so sad. It’s beautifully written, and way beyond anything I could even dream of writing, but I just can’t take the sadness. Last night, I was so depressed by it I had to go in search of a funny book to break the gloom, and the nearest thing to hand was Plotting for Beginners, which I haven’t read for ages. Once I’d got over the culture shock and adjusted to the different, lighter style, I was gripped.
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