Ever since I realized they opened a new library branch five minutes from my house, I've been there a couple times a month loading up on books. I've generally been on a chick-lit guilty pleasure kick, reading anything easy and cute and doesn't require my brain. The only book I'll mention from that set of books as surprisingly worth reading was Marion Keyes' Rachel's Holiday. This was decidedly not chick-lit fodder, but instead the story of a young woman who is put in a drug rehab center in Ireland and her journey through sobriety. It was very good.
I also read about half of Joyce Carol Oates' The Falls, a very gothic, dreary book about a woman whose first husband commits suicide in Niagara Falls, and so on and so forth. I can't really say why I stopped reading; it was generally well written and interesting. It was just so dreary!
The last novel I read was The Other Boleyn Girl, at the insistence of NPR Junky (who disabled her blog so I can't link), and also recommended by my friend Autumn who is a literary assistant in NYC (although she recommended the book-on-CD because the writing wasn't great but the story was). I .... well, I liked it very much, oddly. I'm not into period/epic stories/movies/etc, ever really. I try to read them or watch movies and it just grates on my nerves. So I got through the whole thing, which is a good sign. Also, I thought it was due back at the library today so I stayed up until after midnight last night to finish it. Also a good sign. I think my only qualm with it is actually what probably made me enjoy it. It felt like chick-lit fodder. I know that there is a historical story (although not true to history) and that some or all of the drama may or may not have happened, but it just felt like another summer read, with no real meat. So, if that is your general reading material, you should pick it up. I thought I should feel more satisfied with it, like it should have been more of a meal but instead was like those passed-appetizers of mini beef Wellington. Tasty but unsubstantial. Am I carrying the analogy too far?
Do you have any book suggestions?
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