So I kinda cheated. I started reading “A Ilustre Casa de Ramires”, but remembered then that I had not finished “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf”, by Edward Albee. I took it up once again and, well, I cannot say I liked the storyline. I love Romanticism and hate Realism / Naturalism, so this may explain it all. Still, I loved the way it was written and can appreciate the fact that Albee was one of that authors who really know how to use language to achieve their literary goals. This is the kind of thing that awes me: some people just have a way with words, like Saramago, that leaves me breathless with his prose.
Anyway, now I’m back to Eça de Queirós. Oh, well. Can you feel my excitemente?