Finishing off another fat one

I seem to read nothing but brick-sized books these days, the most recent one having been John Irving's Until I Find You which I finished last night. It would be a lie to say I struggled through the 839 pages, but in my opinion he has definitely written more captivating stories. Having read all of his previous novels as well, I feel fully entitled to make this judgement.

I particularly love those of his books set in Vienna (e.g. Setting Free the Bears and The Hotel New Hampshire) where he briefly studied. When I read his memoir, The Imaginary Girlfriend, however, I was somewhat piqued to find out that a) he did not even bother to have German quotations proof-read and b) that he claimed a - now deceased - Professor at the University of Vienna who was still around when I studied there had an accent like Arnold Schwarzenegger. The gentleman spoke nothing but the most conservative RP. That Irving described the Viennese as being xenophobic didn't exactly thrill me, either, but it is unfortunately true.

Well, this time at least he got the German right. Is it just me, or do you also hate it when you read a book by a bestselling, or any author for that matter who casually inserts text or dialogue in a language you happen to understand and there's nothing but grammar and spelling mistakes? It is definitely one of my pet-hates and I've often contemplated writing to the publishing house or the author him/herself to vent my anger.

Wishing you all a good weekend from this windy and decidedly *autumnal* outpost.