In typical fashion, I am at various stages of about 5 or 6 books right now. Tortilla Flat is sadly, almost coming to an end, the friends dispersing, Danny somewhere further than the rest. Another book I have just recently commenced is Zora Neale Hurston's, Their Eyes Were Watching God, which was sent to me by my sister and is therefore worth reading in slow, fast and middle-of-the-road paced bouts. She has potentially the best taste in literature of anyone I know, and has introduced me to marvels like Middlemarch and good old what's-his-nut'z sonnets, so I am always elated when I get books from her.
Thus far it is an entertaining and interesting read. The main character in the novel, which was written in 1937 by Hurston, a black american woman, clearly struggles with a sense of identity and autonomy over her life and her circumstances. I'm not that far into it, but it's sad and reassuring and enlightening to know that regardless of the time period or political climate of people's situations, the human being will always have a conscious need to be seen and valued despite the crazy and completely ridiculous rules that those with powerful positions and lazy hearts apply to their lives and impose upon others.
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