Sometimes I like to read customers’ “one star” reviews on Amazon for books that I love. This might just be my new favorite.
It’s about Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca.
This book is, without question, the most boring peace of literature ever written. It makes the technical manual to my VCR look like “Raiders of the Lost Ark”. In fact, it’s so boring that I recommend a new synonym for boring, “Rebecca”. The book is about people who have disgustingly unbelievable personalities, who do really boring things, and make up mysteries about killing people that aren’t even in the story, then insist on telling you about it. The main character/narrator is the most overly emotional and sappy person in all of fiction, and could never ever be a real person, even in the 1920s when this book takes place. She insists on telling you about all of her problems, and how she can never “feel right” at Manderly, even though no sane person could EVER care. It’s enough to make you sick. The story really wasn’t that bad but it could have easily been told in about 1/10 of the amount of time. It’s like Dickens description without everything that makes Dickens good. Even after the thousands of atrocities committed by Hitler, I still consider him to be a great man, for burning THIS book. It’s that bad.
This month is our 2nd Tumblrversary and we now stand at over 99,500 followers and climbing!
Two years ago we started the Today’s Document Tumblr as a somewhat dubious social media experiment and never would have believed that today we’d be on the cusp of 100,000 followers. We love bringing you a little sliver of history every day, and are gratified that you all keep coming back for more. So here’s to all our fans, followers, rebloggers, history nerds, fellow tumblarians, and to our National Archives colleagues who have made all these great records available for us to share! Thanks!!
(And just in case this wasn’t apparent, no, there is no “U.S. Social Media Commission” we’re aware of - but check out the GSA’s USA.gov Tumblr - they’re probably the closest thing to it.)
"Hey, the new sign’s really working!"
"Oh, it’s been a madhouse, Lisa!”
No one before Bernini had managed to make marble so carnal. In his nimble hands it would flatter and stream, quiver and sweat. His figures weep and shout, their torses twist and run, and arch themselves in spasms of intense sensation. He could, like an alchemist, change one material into another - marble into trees, leaves, hair, and, of course, flesh.
- Simon Schama’s Power of Art. Bernini