So several chapters into Umberto Eco’s The Island of the Day Before, I realize that I cannot possibly finish this book without consulting a dictionary every five minutes. I remember buying this book four years ago, after my-then boyfriend and I had a spat and I decided to take refuge in a bookstore and purchase the first book I liked. (I was famous for these random shopping impulses. Hungry, bored, impatient, angry – I shop. Thank God I’ve outgrown this obsession.)
Well, this Eco book has a really attractive cover, all blue and gold, and despite its non-attractive price I made my purchase without batting an eyelash. Alas, after a few reading attempts, the book sat in my shelf all these years gathering dust and growing more yellowed by the day. I never went beyond a few chapters simply for the reason that I did not fancy consulting a dictionary page after page! What I did then was to list out all the words that made me feel like some sort of idiot, and then when my patience would begin to run out, toss the book away and opt for an easier read. That had been the way all these years. Until I began reading up on the classics again, from Austen to Kafka, Hesse and Flaubert, and the more contemporary Murakami and McEwan. So now I’ve taken up Eco again.
But to give you an idea as to this royal feast of words, I’m going to type them here. I’d be glad to know what you think. 🙂
Gigue. Saraband. Ostrogothic. Versipellous. Spagyrist. Vintner. Tready. Stimulacra. Parallaxes. Tropes. Pullet. Mandragora. Escutcheon. Hircocervi. Nielloed.
And so on and so forth.
Sigh. I have a love/hate relationship with this marvel of a book.