My Bookies
Just to prove to you that our room at the Residence Inn is not a complete intellectual wasteland, I’m going to shoot out a couple of book reports at ya:
I just finished The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri, one of those books that tells a story that feels nice and cozy and small but when you talk about it sounds big and epic and meaningful. Like Middlesex (which you really must read even if you’ve heard it’s about transsexuals and that seems a little ‘edgy’ for you), it taught me something about cultures within cultures and integrating without really integrating. Yes, I’m making notes to self for future reference. And it had good food descriptions which always moves any book up a few notches on my personal rating scale.
The Sparrow and Children of God are two of those books that few of my book-y (vs. bookie) friends seemed to know about but which are devoured by everyone who picks them up – people who like to read, people who only read USA Today, people who hate science fiction, people who refuse to read about religion, etc etc. I don’t think I’m about to become a sci fi junkie but if I start receiving invitations to Trekkie conventions, we’ll know why. And just shut up about that link to Wil Wheaton’s blog and the X-Files and Buffy addictions. That’s different.
I’m feeling melancholy book-wise, probably because Monday was my last appearance at my book group. There are those who label book groups as an excuse to seem intellectual while actually just drinking too much wine on a weeknight and gossiping about “The O.C.” (which has been known to happen) but along with the gossiping we’ve squeezed in some great conversations about spirituality, culture, sex (no, not specific instances of sex, so all you significant others out there can just calm the heck down), education, and art. Plus I’ve made some groovy friends who sometimes think I’m neat. Movie Stars, I’ll miss you.
