Clearing out top bookshelves yesterday, ran into an old paperback of The Manchurian Candidate, and this morning after breakfast I stayed in bed reading it. What a fine writer! Lately I can’t stand poor style – left two library books unfinished last week because the writers had tin ears, just too painful to read. They were books with NYTimes reviews too, from reputable publishers. Richard Condon was one good writer, though-- having seen the movie on TV lately, fascinated to see how the book had been adapted.Then instead of getting up for lunch I ate
back in bed while reading the paper. Turned on TV again while finally getting dressed, and darned if they weren’t just starting the re-make of The Manchurian Candidate, so I got right back in bed and watched that one too. It was confusing, so about I finally got up and came out here to Wikipedia the remake and figure out what they’d done with the plot.There’s no point in getting dressed now, and come to think of it, this is another day when I haven’t spoken one word to anyone. Mostly because I can’t think up meals or take him places, when Nathan is visiting I tell myself – and his mother – that I’ll give him what one seldom has in life, some time with no one telling him when to go to bed or when to get up or when to eat or what to eat. And then when I was there in bed with my Stauffers lunch, doing the Sunday cryptogram --high point of the week -- suddenly realized that’s what I have myself now.