Faulking Faulkner...

I just did something I've been avoiding for quite awhile. Just how long will become apparent in just a moment.

I forced myself to check when i began The Sound and the Fury. I knew the answer was "too long ago, you freakin' dumpster fire of a human being", but I wasn't prepared for the actual answer.

I began The Sound and the Fury... in early February 2016. If you'd all take a moment to refer to your calendars...

Yes. We are one year and seven months into my reading of the horrible Faulkner. And I'll be honest, I had to start all over again because I don't remember a damned thing about the book from before I gave up on it and started reading whatever the fuck I wanted.

And it's not for lack of my husband's trying to get me to buckle down. Every time he sees me start another book, I get a look that is clearly judgmental and a "What about Faulkner?" Like Billy Boy is some sort of unloved little street urchin. Yeah, what ABOUT Faulkner?! If the man had managed to NOT write like a pretensious, punctuation-hating douchecanoe maybe he'd get a little more love from me. But alright. I give up. I'm sick of this jerk hanging over my head like the freakin' Sword of Damocles. So, like I had to do to get through War and Peace (which, again... I managed to complete in TWELVE DAYS!), I'm going to commit myself to at least 10 pages of The Sound and the Fury a day. I will not allow myself to pick up another book until I have completed my 10 pages for that day.

So, here goes. I hate my life.