Benjamin > Recent Status Updates

Yesssss, I’m reading The Appeal again. Don’t come at me.

*steve carrell gif: omg ok it’s HAPPENING*

I’m having a great time

Oh shit. This is good

Gabriel Krauze has no right to be this good. Oh my

Bored now

If only I’d had 4 months off, to do whatever I wanted, to read whatever I wanted, in preparation for the inevitability of The Mirror & the Light being listed for the Booker Prize. Only then would I be adequately prepared and wouldn’t have to read an extra book to complete the list. If only.

Y’know when you listen to an album and the opening tracks slap, and you know the last couple are gonna be bangers. But the middle just kinda fill the gaps. Yeah...

This Trey guy. Yeah. Fuck that guy

My reactions mainly consisted of 😩🤓😍 within this first part.

Regressing back to angsty-ridden 18-year-old has-just-read-book-for-the-first-time-in-like-ages Ben is fun.

After so many attempts to try to get through, I think this might finally be the day. I really feel for Richard. Loneliness fucking kills me, man. Come here Doubledick. Gimme a big cuddle mwah x

These 12 pages summarise and analyse the events in Wolf Hall more efficiently and more eloquently than, well, Wolf Hall.

Sometimes, it’s more rewarding to actually read a well-plotted novel. This just so happens to also be extremely well-written, as you’d expect from McEwan. It’s not formally inventive or saying anything particularly new, but it’s touching on difficult subjects and is soOoooOo enjoyable to read.

Shit’s about to go DOWN, boi

McEwan. Is. So. GoooOoooOd.

Debbie, if I’ve clocked where you’re going with this then we are both geniuses. This is a book you must analyse. Even the tiniest sentence can send up sucker-punching you into revealing something new.

I can relate to Saul. If he didn’t like brie. Or dry white. Or lived in the 80s. And possibly the present day. And if he wasn’t the biggest Springsteen-or-Beatles-fan-but-he-can-definitely-name-like-couple-of-songs-,-ok-? But, like, I relate. You know?

There’s so much sexual tension going on here. I reckon I would have fancied Michaelangelo back in the day.

I’ve decided to have a short break from Cromwell and Tudor Britain. So I’ve Time-travelled back 30 years, to Michaelangelo in Constantinople, obviously.

And this is how it starts...

Christophe has given me a new phrase to use in every day life. So articulate. Forged in the depths of the volcano of the written word. Encapsulating all that is readable to the trained and untrained eye. And to think:

“Oh by the hairy balls of Jesus.”

Ah, coronavirus: the sweating sickness of 2020.

Henry flexing with that new feathery hat. I feel you, boy. Whenever I marry my second partner, I’ll be sure to rock out with my flock out. Full plumage.

He, Thomas, or he, Cromwell or, even, he, Thomas Cromwell or, just simply, he is proper sassy now. And I love it. You go girl.

Imagining that this is just one long Tudor-special of Made in Chelsea is really helping. Anne is the golden girl: the fake-tan; the white teeth and the awful accent. Cromwell is the subtly-sexy businessman, keep tabs on everybody, shit-stirring where possible. Henry is the buff, Daddy-had-money, girls-don’t-understand-me type. And Jane is going to be the main gal when nobody watches the show anymore.

Her-dialogue-is-so-good-that-I’m-wondering-if-Hilary-is-he-,-Thomas-Cromwell-,-herself. Do I yet have any idea what’s actually going on? Will I ever? Isn’t it fun to ask questions?