A bit of fiction before the deluge of readings for my history class begins: The Minotaur Takes a Cigarette Break, by Steven Sherill. The story is exactly what the title suggests, a tale about the celebrated Minotaur of Greek mythology and his quest for a life with meaning, which eventually finds him working as a short-order cook at a roadside greasy spoon in the Deep South. I'm only about a hundred pages into this novel, which was Sherill's first (he has another out just this year, Visits From the Drowned Girl), but I'm enjoying it immensely. I haven't read much fiction since I began writing myself again, and now when I do read it I catch myself lingering over certains turns of phrase or particularly vivid descriptive passages, admiring the workmanship of a fellow craftsman. I think I'll finish reading this before I throw myself back into "Confessions" - not only on account of Minotaur being an excellent read but mostly because I want to recharge my creative self with some positive energy before getting back to my own writing. I know that the act of putting pen to paper or in my case stylus to touch-screen can be therapeutic, but the events of the past couple of weeks aren't something I necessarily want to be working out in my novel. There's enough of that in there already!