BiblioAddict

Five days. Wow, has it really been so long since I last posted? Hmm… So what excuse could I offer that would be good enough for abandoning BiblioAddict for nearly a week? … …

I got nothing.

To tell you the truth there is no good excuse. I suppose I could tell you that well I was burnt out with reading – remember that? – but well, that wouldn’t be true. I re-bought and finished WORLD WAR Z by Max Brooks more than a few days ago. That absolutely amazing book was enough to jump-start my biblio-mania and I’ve been reading like an addict ever since.

I’ve been reading more of the SCRIBNER ANTHOLOGY OF CONTEMPORARY SHORT FICTION (still amazing and surprising), and much of John Connolly’s NOCTURNES, which is also just…wow. Connolly knows how to spin a darn good yarn, and many of his stories definitely creeped me out. “Some Children Wander By Mistake” reaffirmed my belief that clowns are bad, very bad:

Their irises were entirely black, and their eye sockets were rimmed with bright red flesh. One of them, now with an orange wig upon his head, placed his face very close to William’s and sniffed at the boy’s skin. Then he opened his mouth, revealing very white, very thin, and very sharp teeth. They curved inward at the bottom, like hooks … A tongue emerged, long and purple and covered with tiny barbs. It unfolded like a fly’s or the end of a paper whistle, slowly uncurling from deep in the clown’s mouth. The tongue licked at William, tasting his tears, and it felt to William like having a thistle or a cactus rubbed against his face.

*Shudders*

I’ve also started HAPPINESS: A HISTORY by Darrin M. McMahon. I haven’t gotten very far, so I got nothing to quote for you, but I will soon enough. Trust me.

And surprises of all surprises, I’ve been reading the The New Yorker. Okay, well that’s not a surprise, but what is is that I’ve been reading The New Yorker fiction, which I almost never do. But then I suppose even that isn’t much of feat considering the issue I started this new habit (maybe) with was the Dec. 24 & 31 Winter Fiction issue. I don’t know if it’s the contributors included in this issue – Junot Diaz, Anne Enright, and Jhumpa Lahiri, etc. – or my newfound appreciation for short fiction (probably a little bit of both), but I didn’t skip it or quickly scan it as I usually do. We’ll see how long this lasts.

In other news, just about everyone has their best of/worst of lists up by now. Everyone, that is, except for me. I’ve realized that I like reading “best of” lists a whole lot more than I like making them. Maybe I’ll relent, stop being lazy, and type one up, but I make no promises. Besides, if you’re like me, you’re probably suffering from “best of” list overload. I love reading them, but after a while – for this gal at least – all those great books just start to run together and I just can’t keep up.

Well that’s it ladies and gents. In a few days, I’m going home to St. Louis for the holidays, so my posting might be sporadic at best. If I don’t post before then have a happy holiday season, and a wonderfully bookish New Year.