Monday, February 19, 2018

101 Books, Number 35



35: Middlemarch, 1871-72, by George Eliot (Mary Anne Evans, 1819–1880)

A book of hers I didn’t read—
Although I did read Adam Bede
And other works (though not with speed).

This is a book I listened to—
Yes, book-on-disk I chose to do
On daily drives (more than a few)

I took back in 2009–
My cancer wasn’t doing fine—
And I had radiation (whine!).*

I loved the story—first to last;
I loved the varied, clever cast—
Though some of them left me aghast.

I’m not a fan of hearing books—
I’d rather give them lingering looks
In quiet, friendly, home-fire nooks.

But Eliot? I’d read or hear—
For either way her voice is clear—
She draws from me the laugh, the tear.

*In January 2009 I was driving down to the Cleveland Clinic, M-F (about 45 min away), where I got thirty daily radiation treatments. I listened to this book, going and returning, and after my last treatment, I arrived home with about ten minutes left. I sat in the car and finished it.

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