Reading Rambo

I've had this thing for over a year now. Shall we hearken back to those early days? Brontes vs Sea Turtles, essays on why you should shut up about the Kindle ruining reading, and days when I just posted internet-generated memes saying what kind of book I was. Days we're all well shut of. These were accompanied by various moany emails to friends such as: Looking at too many bookblogs makes one frustrated with everyone ever. Although I later decided I was being judgmental and horrible and who was I to decide what inspired people in their lives, and maybe they needed the help of a Jodi Picoult or a Chicken Noodle Soup for the Blah Blah Soul.But, as is the case with most populated areas, you have to wade through a lot of shit (wait...eww) and when you find one blessed floating door like the one Kate Winslet clings to in Titanic (a movie soon to become relevant again!), you get on and cling to it while singing a jaunty but contextually poignant song, and then get picked up by the RM…