Just finished The Enchantress of Florence (as I’ve already informed both Goodreads and Facebook’s “Visual Bookshelf” application – hoodyhoo!).
I like Salman Rushdie better when he’s being comic and not writing reverently about threesomes and hookers. Unless those hookers are aptly named Mattress and Skeleton, and are not – once again – the most beautiful women in the world. I thought the book was going to explode with big, black, enchanting eyes – the atomic bombs of the Mughal Empire.
But I’m probably just jealous. Rushdie, when will you acknowledge the mystical, seductive powers of gum-chewing, cargo-shorts-wearing, bookish American girls? When will you build us a kingdom of our own? I’m talking elephants, lakes filled with chardonnay, and male concubine poets.
I just had an unrelated comment: I like that your blog template is discreet enough for me to read it at work. Not that I would, or do. *shifty eyes*