Christopher Waller

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The Oresteia: Aga...
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read in 2025
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"Re-read the Agamemnon, which is perhaps my favorite of all the Greek plays. Like most of the best authors of antiquity, Aeschylus produces compelling and timeless drama. Once Cassandra arrives, the whole play builds to a roiling boil which is marvelous to read." May 19, 2026 12:35PM

 
Rebecca
Christopher Waller is currently reading
Reading for the 2nd time
read in February 2024
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May 23, 2026 11:20PM

 
The Rāmāyaṇa of V...
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May 06, 2026 11:32AM

 
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Wang Anyi
“The theater was pitch black, save for the column of rotating light emanating from the hole in the projection room to create an illusory world”
Wang Anyi, The Song of Everlasting Sorrow: A Novel of Shanghai

Marcel Proust
“Each of our friends has his defects so markedly that to continue to love him we are obliged to seek consolation for those defects -- in the thought of his talent, his goodness, his affection for ourself -- or rather to leave them out of account, and for that we need to display all our good will. Unfortunately our obliging obstinacy in refusing to see the defect in our friend is surpassed by the obstinacy with which he persists in that defect, from his own blindness to it or the blindness that he attributes to other people. For he does not notice it himself, or imagines that it is not noticed.”
Marcel Proust (Translator: C K Scott Moncrieff)

Lao She
“It was intensely cold, with sand swirling in the air. The wind seemed to be racing past overhead, blurring the outlines of stars in the sky, except for a few of the largest ones, which shimmered slightly. There was no wind near the ground, but the freezing cold air was everywhere, opening long cracks in the wheel ruts…”
Lao She, Rickshaw Boy

“The tramcar would have gone on forever, if the city hadn't been shut down. It was. The streets were sealed off. "Ding-dingding-ding" rang the bell. Each "ding" was a small, cold dot: dot after dot, they formed a line that cut through space and time.”
Zhang Ailing

Lao She
“The old fellow gazed out at the empty tent, painted a soft green by the carbide lamps, and at the tables, now missing their tablecloths, and felt utterly desolate, imagining that this is what his funeral would be like: the tent would become a place of mourning, but there would be no dutiful sons or grandsons in mourning attire kneeling before his coffin, nothing but a few casual acquaintances playing mahjong through the night”
Lao She, Rickshaw Boy

year in books
Rachael...
342 books | 69 friends

Kalley ...
312 books | 38 friends



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