I started a book at a friend’s house and then couldn’t put it down. Instead of borrowing her copy, I decided to purchase my own. It was 14 dollars at the U bookstore–’That’s so much!” my sister and I exclaimed. We’ve both been spoiled by the half priced book store where she currently works. Books are rarely over ten dollars. Plus, this was a paperback! 14 dollars!

Anyway, I don’t want to give too much of this book away because I’m sure many folks are reading it. The crux of the book is an illicit affair between an eccentric artist and a progressive woman in the early 1900’s. Both parties leave their spouses and their children in order to pursue their affair in Europe–a truly radical act in 1910. The book is based off of their letters, journals, etc.

Anyway, I was half way through the book when I decided to look up the artist and his lover on wikipedia for a little extra insight. Bad idea. Turns out the woman was brutally murdered–her house set on fire by one of the men building their home. Then he goes crazy with an axe and chops up 7 people–including her children. I was shocked. I flipped to the end of the paperback and sure enough it ends with fire, murder, and despair. So, I totally spoiled the end of the book. And, I have to say I was really duped into thinking this biography was going to have a happy ending. I had been lounging around in the sun, enjoying a mini-vacation at my parent’s house, reading all about the progressive artist movement in the early 1900’s. Now I don’t want to pick this book up again…not if it ends so tragically.

Subsequently, I had a series of nightmares last night. None about fire, but lot’s of hiding, seeking, worry, weaponry, and general discomfort. Twice, I woke up and told myself sternly, “Now, stop this…you need nice dreams.” It didn’t matter, one bad dream would simply turn into another and now I”m all tuckered out.

Stupid book.