
I have been reading more lately. I finished Wuthering Heights last week and have read 700 pages of Gone with the Wind, but I had to skip to the end because I had to have some type of resolution to the saga romance between Rhett Butler and Scarlett O'Hara. I couldn't take it anymore! I totally love Rhett, he is such a man, but I think that the reason that I got so absorbed into this book was because I think that in too many ways for comfort, my personality is like Scarlett's. And I was waiting on bated breath hoping that despite her many flaws, everything would turn out well for her. I was disappointed. They don't end up together! Grumble. I hate it when that happens. I woke up annoyed the next morning after staying up till three for the second night in a row just to hear that Rhett really meant it when he said his famous "Frankly my dear, I just don't give a d*." All in all however, the book is a classic for good reason. It is frankly fabulous. The way that Margret Mitchell describes everything is poetic. It has a certain Southern rythmn to it that is reminiscent of a sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch. I'm definitely going to finish it, and I highly recommend it. Just don't be like me and sacrifice sleep because you are desperate to learn the fate of a fictitious character who is somewhat similar to you. Because it actually doesn't have any bearing on how your life will turn out. At least that is what I keep telling myself.