As I've intimated in my more recent updates, I have not been able to secure a stable internet connection in over a week. Now that it seems like I have found one, I find myself too sleepy to write anything worth reading. Ironic, innit?
I will say that I did managed to finish reading Youth this afternoon and I positively loved the book. The fictionalized memoir is easily one of the best portraits of an artist as a young man that I have come across and the late adolescent John Coetzee deserves a place alongside Joyce's Stephen Dedalus, Fitzgerald's Amory Blaine, and Mykle's Ask Burlefot as one of the twentieth century's most memorable bildungsroman protagonists.
For tomorrow: Read an article on Disgrace or, if I'd prefer, a bit of Inner Workings.