The books I read and a book I haven’t read yet

A long time ago I would bore my readership (all five people of them, no jokes) telling unwanted stories about whose book I like the most and why. It seems that a good part of ‘my’ authors are taken care of by the modern word [1) it looks like it is an excellent website, so you should check it both on my account [to read about my tastes] and on your account as well [to read something really good]; 2) I’m linking to its Flann O’Brien’s page, because the homepage doesn’t work].

Now, not all of the people listed there I know, and from those whom I know, not all I do like, but the number of those I do know and like is high enough to make  coincindence impossible and the whole thing interesting. And if it is so, then there is a solid fat chance that I would have liked the other listed writers were I acquainted with them, wouldn’t you think?

Flann O’Brien, the guy from the page I linked to, is the first on my list. For one, I love and enjoy the kind of imagination and humour which stands behind this:

In Donegal there are native speakers who know so many million words that it is a matter of pride with them never to use the same word twice in a life-time.

More importantly, there’s his Irish masterpiece, “An Béal Bocht” which seems like the best thing the Irish literature has on offer for me. Once I learn the darn language well enough, that is.

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