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Twenty-umpty years I've known these two novels, and it never occurred to me . . .
. . . that George Eliot is deliberately rewriting Dr. Strong and Annie (from David Copperfield) in Mr. Casaubon and Dorothea.

This can't be an original thought. I bet it's been written to death; it must have been. If I weren't so sleepy, I'd check the MLA Bibliography right now.

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I think it's adorable that your sleepy-thoughts are about George Eliot and lit-ra-chah.

Mine are about how clever it is to bury a body at the bottom of an already-dug grave.

I'm not being facetious. I think it's truly cute as hell, and (I hope) more useful than my sleepy-thoughts.

Argh--it would be cuter if it were truly random, but, see, I was rereading Copperfield for tomorrow's British Novel class, desperately trying to stay fifty minutes ahead of the students. ;-) Since Toshi was marching around the house, alternating between whapping his Nylabone on the floor and barking ferociously at Invisible Alien Invaders, sleep just wasn't on the agenda for a while . . .

And that is indeed a clever way to hide a body! Especially if there's a way to slide said body into the grave under the funeral home's already-set-up hydraulic lift thingy, so nobody will see it. Down goes the coffin, squish goes the body, and Bob's your uncle.


Nono, you go to an already-dug grave the night BEFORE the burial, and put the body even deeper, then cover it up. They don't leave the lifts in overnight, but they do leave the holes ready!

Uhhhhhhh. Yes, you did say "bury!"

Toldja I was sleepy . . . ;-)

This reminds me, though, of one of the many times my dad was a charity pallbearer, this time at a small funeral in the next town over. Not only did Dad sit next to a fellow pallbearer who was in the early stages of dementia and kept poking Dad with the pin from his official buttonhole flower, but:

--the lift broke, and because the funeral home had multiple services that day, they hadn't sent any young strong guys to this particular cemetery. The pallbearers (none of them under 65) and the 75-year-old cancer-ridden undertaker had to lower the coffin into the grave by hand.

--it didn't go well.

--after everything was over, the pallbearers blithely piled into the two vehicles they had carpooled in, and they all headed home. Dad, who had wandered off to pee (of course without telling anybody), came back to find himself alone in the cemetery. Each carload of old guys assumed that he was in the other car.

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My dad, who usually didn't go in for the funny, got a huge kick out of telling this story. I'm not sure whether the pin-poking or the dropped coffin or the going-off-and-leaving is more unbelievable, but the combination of all three is definitely something out of a VSBMM.

Ohhh, I missed Marcel with the cello! Must catch up on LJ this weekend--I've been really spotty in my scanning lately.

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