It's March and I'm thinking I'm not alone in saying goodbye to February, you short and sometimes gloomiest of months. Of course, we're hearing it's all rain rain rain for the first half but that's what makes Portland so much like Portland.
In honor of March I'm spending the month reading Irishly which does not mean with a bottle of Jameson's. Okay, maybe it does. Actually I'm thinking Irish authors. And I'm starting with Dracula by Bram Stoker. Did you know he was Irish? Yup. He was born Abraham Stoker in Dublin, Ireland in 1847. This is also my inaugural book on the new Kindle. I'm already a little unsure since there are no page numbers but it does tell me what percentage I have read. That's a little daunting to be constantly reminded that you are but a mere 4% into your book. Since it's just this month, I'm not suggesting I jump headlong into Ulysses by James Joyce. Even on my best years, I've always fallen short with that damn book. Nor do I want to attempt Tristram Shandy again because it's amusing but way too intense especially if March looks anything like the end of February. One wrong step and I could become homicidal. It's a little difficult to find the lighter side of Irish fiction. Actually, does it exist?
Oh, yes. Oscar Wilde would be a good addition if only because he said one of my favorite quotes ever. When asked upon entering the United States if he had anything to declare, he responded I have nothing to declare but my own genius. Yeah, top that.
Now I just need to move into contemporary Irish fiction.
If you have an Irish suggestions, let me hear them.
And while you're thinking about it, here's a little mood music.