In a quite successful attempt to escape the realities of life, harsh and soft, I’ve read five books so far this year. I sat in my cushy reading chair by the front window and tossed those babies back like bon bons (if they were non-chocolate ones, of course–see The Day After post i.e. chocolate aversion…). In fact, nix the bon bons and make that tossed back like Nacho Cheese Doritos, how about? Like Cookie Monster cramming his face full of cookies, only they’re chips. Anyway, this resulted in having a very full head at bedtime making sleep a challenge while I continued on with the story in my half-sleep, half-dream state. Non stop words, words, words. Not restful. The books are, in chronological order: Last Night at the Lobster (thank you Hannah!), The Final Solution, In Persuasion Nation, The Eleventh Man, and Food Matters. I loved them all except for In Persuasion Nation, a book of short stories that’s supposedly very funny satirical stuff, but I wasn’t getting it. And they’re comparing the author to Vonnegut! Get out! Joe and I also finished our latest read-aloud book, Divine Justice, and started another by a very local author (writes ’em in our neighborhood coffee shop) Auralia’s Colors (which I found out by snagging my link for this post is a biblical allegory, but I’m not seeing it so far).
Books I’m looking forward to coming out in the next few months by a couple of my favorite crazy people are Fool, by Christopher Moore and B is for Beer, by Tom Robbins, whose words I’ve been enamored with since I was 16 when my then-boyfriend gave me Even Cowgirls Get the Blues for a gift and his mom called mine and told her he’d given me an inappropriate book. Censored! To my mother’s credit, she let me keep the book. Probably snuck it out and read it on her own while I was at school. Now I have at least five autographed books by the man; meeting him twice at book signings, the first at age 19 at Village Books in Fairhaven, where I blushed and giggle-stammered up into his red-coke-glazed eyes. Sigh. The eighties.
Book at my elbow I’m about to start: The Flying Troutmans, by Miram Toews. Yum, Yum!