This has been a summer jam-packed with books for me. Sometimes it feels like the reading of them is more important than the content. It’s like that feeling you get when you’re really hungry and you don’t care what strange thing you eat as long as it fills you up.
This is not neccesarily a recommended reading list, it’s more a hodgepodge sample of what has been filling up my little head, because reading even a mediocre book beats sitting around staring off into space. I think. (*stares off into space and thinks about that*)
A man revisits his childhood, drawn to a small farmhouse and the pond behind it where his seven-year old self encounters dangerous, strange and frightening things. His beloved kitten gets run over, his family’s boarder commits suicide, and he and his eleven-year old friend Lettie try to send some creepy evil thing, accidentally awakened from another realm, back to its own world. This is one for fans of grown up fairy tales who like to remember the terror and magic involved in simply being a kid.
Vonny and Andre are worried about their abnormally short four-year old son Simon, but go on to worry about a variety of other things after their elderly neighbor Elizabeth, suffering from deafness and dementia, jumps out of her second story window and has to have her 16-year-old (kind of trampy, Andre-seducing) granddaughter come to live with her while she convalesces. Spoiler alert – Simon gets taller.
Coco is a struggling author who has a cheating husband, a gay son named Rosencrantz, two best friends who receive the bulk of her crazy e-mails, a hideous mother-in-law, a snobby agent, and a seemingly endless run of bad luck. It’s not easy getting back into the dating scene at the age of 42, never mind trying to steer your chaotic life in a new direction and get yourself back on track. But like Rosencrantz – (“Fucking hell Mum, like, way to go”) – I was laughing out loud and rooting for her all the way.
I guess I did not read nearly enough angst ridden young adult novels as a young adult so I’m making up for it now. This is a book written for teens by someone who remembers very well what it’s like to be one.
A down-on-his-luck disabled veteran detective investigates a super-model suicide and solves the mystery of her death. I read this only because it’s actually J.K. Rowling writing under a pseudonym, and not because I like to read crime fiction or mysteries. More seasoned whodunit lovers will probably have this one figured out before the end, but I never expect these things to turn out the way they do.
What secret is locked inside Rabo Karabekians potato barn? What better way to delve into the many layers of brilliance in the works of Kurt Vonnegut than to re-read some of my old and long forgotten favourites?
There are more books I could mention and give bad reviews, but why say things that aren’t nice? Or did I do that already? It’s hard for me to stay focussed on this because I’m part way through something new and hungry for the next chapter. In fact, I have two books on the go at the moment. I am a book glutton. Maybe I need help. Maybe there’s a book on that.