Fun with Sammy B.

Not a lot of complaints about the Saturday Globe this week. I enjoyed Ian Brown’s article on reading, or trying to read, Samuel Beckett. It piqued my interest.

Brown said he was so exhausted by Beckett he took his breaks by going out and sitting in his car, in the rain, and listening to Led Zeppelin. I’ve never gone and just sat in the car without going anywhere. Is this common? Do people just sit in their cars to get away (without literally getting away) from things? I find this peculiar.

Salman Rushdie says that getting a headache is "not an inappropriate response" to reading Beckett. This appeals to me. Reading a writer whose writing will give me a headache.

I’m a big fan of David Foster Wallace’s books, and I like reading sentences that go round and round and round until I want to scream. Someday I’ll figure out where the fun lies in this.