The Unvanquished--William Faulkner. Faulkner, like Hawthorne, is notoriously under-read and his humor under-appreciated. Perhaps it is the difficulty of plumbing the depths of his prose. If so, The Unvanquished should prove a satisfying, if perhaps slight, entry point into his work. (I don't know whether or not it is slight, I'm not a Faulkner expert--and all of Faulkner works to one end any way, most of the works sharing a dynasty of characters, or even more importantly for a work of southern fiction a continuity of place. (I plan to follow up with Absalom! Absalom!, Intrude in the Dust, and the collected short stories. I've already read and really enjoyed The Sound and the Fury (much falls into place in the beginning of Benjy's first section when you remember that his sister's name is Caddie) and As I Lay Dying. (What I most recall with this one is Vardeman's assertion after Addie's death, or perhaps just prior to it, that "My mother is a fish." You have to read this mordant study to get it--it's one of those places where Faulkner is at his finest talking about the foibles of humankind.)
Map of Bones--James Rollins--I don't know why, but I don't find this book nearly as compelling as The Judas Strain or The Black Order. You'd think the theft of the bones of the magi would be a matter of great interest, but somehow it just isn't really compelling.
Soul Provider--Yep, you haven't seen a final review because I didn't want to rush through and end the experience of the book. It has been enormously helpful, insightful, and meaningful, taking the abstruse and difficult thought of ancient asceticism and applying it in a meaningful way to how we live our lives today. Truly a book to savor and enjoy again and again. I will never read St. John Climacus in exactly the same way again--which is a good thing--pawing through desert dust for a kernel of insight is hardly rewarding, but realizing that what is said has relevance for people who do not live in the same circumstances--that we're not pawing through desert dust, but walking through the living water of the love of God.
The Purgatorio--Dante. Don't know if I'll end up finishing it this month, as so little time is left, but I'll give it a try if other things move out of the way.
Lined up are a biography of Louis Mayer and other assorted delights from my local library and my personal collection. We'll see how it all works out.
