I happen to be reading Sherwood Anderson’s Winesburg, Ohio (for American literature II) and Joyce’s Dubliners (for textual analysis and interpretation) simultaneously. Both books are sort of melding into one in my mind, becoming distinguishable mainly by local colour and the authors’ writing styles — Anderson being short, sharp, and simple, and Joyce, well, writing very Jocyian.
The chapter/short story in Winesburg, Ohio entitled “Adventure” has to be one of the saddest pieces I’ve read in sometime, especially the last couple lines.
I viddied Road to Perdition last night. I highly recommend it. Nice to see a mobster/mafia film with a redeeming conclusion. One scene really got me: Depression Era, Chicago; Mr. Sullivan (Tom Hanks), standing in the remote shadows, in a fit of vengeful justice (his wife and young son having been murdered), blows away a group of men getting into an automobile in a dark city alley. It is downpouring, the men, riddled with bullets, are lying lifeless and soaking wet on the ground. After walking down the legnth of the alley and killing his boss face to face, Mr. Sullivan happens to look up at the buildings on either side of him. They are apartment buildings, windows on every floor are silently emanating pale light and contain the silhouettes of women and men silently and serenely peering at Mr. Sullivan and the carnage below. After a few moments he turns, and slowly walks back into the darkness of the alley.