Every year on the first of January, I make a reading goal for myself. Usually it comes in the form of a number: how many books I’d like to have read by the time December thirty-first rolls around.
Sometimes this makes me a desperate reader. Actually, being a reader makes me a desperate reader. If I open the pages of a book, I have to finish them. Otherwise, I feel like a failure.
This year, I’ve decided to be more forgiving of myself. If I’m not feeling a book, I’ll DNF it.
Continue reading “Not Every Book Ends on the Last Page”
There are many different ways to read this book.
It’s a fairy tale; Hansel and Gretel, evil stepmother, orphans and hidden treasure and a big, formidable house.
It’s a story about family, found and made. The bonds that can give us strength or leave us bereft.
It’s a warning.
Continue reading “The Dutch House: or, Swimming to the Surface”
Reading this book was like eating an exceptionally rich slice of chocolate cake, but in the best way possible. Over-indulgent, but the chocolate was chocolate. Not the sugary, overly-sweet corn-starchy chocolate used in store-bought icing kits, but like…$100 chocolate cake from some fancy French patisserie.
You get me.
Continue reading “Exhuming Gideon the Ninth”