Monk Lit
I was up fairly early this morning trying to read Saint Augustine's Confessions. Monk lit like chick lit is a self-indulgent genre with much lamenting over sex, gluttony and avarice. It was not easy going and I was forced to brew up a pot of lethally strong coffee and break out the carrot and stick. For every chapter of Confessions I got to read a chapter of Live & Let Die. It pains me to report that Augustine was more of a player than Bond. In L&LD Bond is obsessed with breakfast. I swear more of the book is devoted to the ordering and consumption of breakfast than action sequences or his failed attempts to bed Solitaire. He is actually quite a wuss in this novel as he refuses to sleep with her on the grounds he has a broken finger...
Comments
Monk Lit! HA!
Although I am perterbed to hear that Bond is being wimpy.