In the depths of sickie, hoping to be inspired, I picked up a book that was delivered (or not, I had to run to the post office twice to get it. RUN. TWICE.) via parcel force from my loving sister, who may or may not have "opened in to make sure it was what she ordered." Yes! The long-awaited fourth installment of The Pink Carnation series. Once again I am struck by jealousy of not only Lauren Willig, who seems to be able to churn out novels and get them published while completing JDs AND PhDs in History from Harvard and holding down jobs in law firms (explain that one to me) but her heroine Eloise, who manages to succeed in areas where I can hardly hold a candle, including dressing cutely, getting grants, exposing secret agents in dusty archives, convincing good-looking heirs to allow research weekends in their family archives in charming Sussex estates, and landing dates with said good-looking heirs. But I am getting closer, people. I spent ALL DAY in the British Library. (I went to a training day for history postgraduates). I HANDLED Sylvia Pankhurst's toilet paper roll! (On which she wrote letters to be smuggled out of prison.) The manuscripts curator happened upon that little gem in their recent acquisitions. I might not be Eloise Kelly, but I'm a hell of a lot closer to it than I was 3 years ago when I first picked up the advanced reader copy of The Secret History of the Pink Carnation in the break room at Russo's.
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(2) Tue Mar 18 2008 21:43 But do you have footnotes?:
Yes as Susie so keenly observes, I am alive. Barely.