Heck Yes I finished Cuckoo's Nest. Superb all over the place! I didn't think it was going to be that literate. Hugely entertaining and sad and triumphant. Our narrator gives it all to us, all senses relayed and analyzed, including drug dreams and mental blockages. Everybody's hero is of course Randle McMurphy -- whatta HUGELY American character! ++++ Now I'm back in Russialand with The Idiot, wright in the middle. Prince Myshkin roxx! Is this the Ruskies' Arthur tale, more than the Christ tale? Hmmmm ... I'm also back into Against the Day. Wrockin' thru Salonica with Cyprian and Danilo, just this morning in a bar: "At the Mavri Gata there was enough hasheesh smoke to confound an elephant. At the end of the room, as if behind an iconostasis of song, oud, baglamas, and a kind of hammered dulcimer called a santouri were being played without a break. The music was feral, Eastern in scale, flatted seconds and sixths, and a kind of fretless portamento between, instantly familiar though the words were in some slurred jailhouse Greek that Danilo confessed to picking up only about one word in ten of. In these nocturnal modalities, "roads," as the musicians called them, Cyprian heard anthems not of defined homelands but of release into lifelong exile. Roads awaiting the worn sole, the ironbound wheel, and promises of misery on a scale the military staff colleges were only beginning to contemplate."
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