Vanity Fair

To give you an idea of how much time I spend in my car when I have crews in the field, over the past month I have managed to listen to all 30 hours of Thackeray's Vanity Fair (1848) on cd. I enjoyed it quite a bit and I am glad that I was never forced to read it as an undergraduate, when I wouldn't have had the time or the background to appreciate it properly.

You know, we like to complain that we live in a very ironic time, and we wonder if our ironic sensibilities keep us from forming powerful attachments or working to make the world better. Let me tell you, no contemporary writer has anything on Thackeray when it comes to irony. The book is full of little asides like, "it was heartwarming to see how often her friends visited her and how well they treated her once she had inherited a fortune." The whole attitude toward society is deeply ironic, whether the subject is social status, the law, the church, the universities, boxing, courting, or even mothers' love for their children. The only things not roundly mocked are private prayer and the bravery of the British army at Waterloo.