While reading about Marcel Proust and his works and travels is at times enlightening; it is also tiresome to keep reading about his every day complaints, which most people wouldn't even consider a problem.
I am still curious as to why my editor, Julia, pointed this biography out, there are a vast amount of differences in our life styles. I can only think it is to show me, how writers intertwine life into stories.
As I have put the biography down, I chose to read Silas Marner by George Eliot; this is in itself an unusual choice for me, as I haven't read many of the classics of this era-i don't have anything against them.
A good friend bought me a copy of Wuthering Heights for the last birthday I had before I got laid off at the museum. What puts me off is so many books of the era go into what I class as unnecessary detail about furnishings, which in my opinion bogs the story down to a snail's pace-I admire the work which goes into writing at length.
I hope this book is better than the last one of the era I read-The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins-it started well and then petered out and after 150 pages, I gave up. This was not only my opinion, as there are over 100 reviews on Amazon saying this book is boring; to give you an idea-he spent four pages detailing how to strip a wooden door and the effect the stripper had on the family.