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We're past the Ides of March. Thank God, right?

I have high hopes for my March as regards reading. Mainly because we're almost at the end of it and I seem to have read a lot of shit. I can't start out the month with high hopes, because then if I read nothing I shall be terrifically disappointed in myself. But as it stands on the 26th, I AM ROOTING FOR YOU, ME.



Yesterday I finished Anna and the French Kiss and immediately tried out one, two, three different library eBooks. I was like the Goldilocks of Overdrive. (if you do not know what Overdrive is, your life is unfulfilled)


The first was Isabel Wilkerson's The Warmth of Other Suns. Oh, how this book has been lauded. Oh, how intelligent Wilkerson seemed when she guested on NPR. And -- oh, it's partially done in a fictional narrative style. Nope.


Next up was The Uninvited Guests by Sadie Jones. It is entirely possible that this book gets fantastic after the first chapter. But to be honest, despite my love of Victorian novels and warm fondness for Wodehouse, I'm not that into early to mid 20th century English novels set in the country. This is partially how I avoided Downton mania. "Oh, Reginald, do make sure Simpkins has brought in the tennis things before the Vandemeres arrive; I hate to think about the lawn looking like a junkyard. When will Winifred and her friends learn?"




Not for me.


And of course, the littlest bear was: Confessions of a Shopaholic. Which seems to be a Bridget Jones knockoff and I am FINE with that.


With a [Financial Times] under your arm, you can talk about the most frivolous things in the world, and instead of thinking you’re an airhead, people think you’re a heavyweight intellectual who has broader interests, too.
This is how I use opera. "Oh, you were going to judge my love of Britney Spears's first album? OR I COULD SING IN ONE OF EIGHT LANGUAGES FOR YOU. Very good, back to 'E-Mail My Heart' and how it is under-appreciated by the public at large."

So I'm very much enjoying that book. I'm also working on: Lamb, Passions Between Women, OotP (obvs), Oscar Wilde's Last Stand, Barnaby Rudge, Sharp Objects, and other random things, mostly Dickensian in nature. You know why? Because STARTING books is the funnest. But the middle parts, not so exciting. Books that make me want to keep returning to them instead of spreading my attention among their compatriots are extremely rare and usually involve a mix of humor and the desire to see two people make out.

So, Attachments and Anna and the French Kiss, you're both doin' real well.

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