Sir Salman is giving a lecture and book-signing tomorrow evening, and I'm all about being there.
I don't think I'm going to buy the book, though. It's a shame, because the book itself would be the thing to bring me closest (in proximity) to Mr. Rushdie, and he would, you know, write my name! with his own hand!!!!
But I flipped through Enchantress of Florence today in a bookstore and thought "no way am I shelling out $30 for this." Never mind that Rushdie went on the Colbert Report and said it was about magical wizard-women and had lots and lots of sex between its covers.
I think it's because I looked into the book and thought "this is just like Dangerous Beauty," which is a movie that I never really liked.
And I know it's not really like Dangerous Beauty, that it's much more complicated and weaves in Mughal India and a lot of other stuff, and that really I'm making up an excuse not to buy the book because I don't want to pay $30 for it in hardback. (Still poor, peeps.)
If I had my copy of Midnight's Children, the one I dragged across the entire length of India in a series of miserably shabby Sleeper II trains (and one nice shatabdi), I would absolutely flout convention and insist Rushdie sign that. Sentimental value FTW!
Of course, considering Rushdie's reputation, I could ask him to sign a body part.
The more interesting question: will his son be there? *__^
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment