I’ve read 31 books this year. And started countless others.
Recent complete reads have been:
To me, this is Harry Potter on speed mixed with The Never-Ending Story. Maybe that’s just me. But it did end. And now I have to read the sequel. Damn.
Because I too traipsed around Europe as a young person. And I have an Aunt who passed away, who kind of guides me through life. There aren’t any letters for me, though. Poems, but no letters.
I even met a weirdo. These days, I much prefer the geek I’m getting married to.
Loved this one. Ten stars. I would say not my usual kind of book. But I’ve forgotten what my usual is. I suspect I read this at just the right time to be swept away.
Yes, I’m still reading this series. No, I haven’t lost count. or heart. Yet.
I read this because I was looking for another one of his, and I found this one. Read it cover to cover, which may not be the best way to read essays. I’ve thrown it at Sarge, but not before highlighting ones he should read.
Continuing on my memoir kick, I’d been waiting AGES to read this book. A bit of armchair travel here too, since Sarge and I have decided not to go out of the country until the honeymoon.
This is another one that can be filed under ‘escapist’. Kept imaging Wall-E. I figure I read grown up books when I was a young adult, so I can read some YA now.
And these are some of the books that are in various stages of unread around the house:
I think I’m at the point just before it gets predictable. Having said that, I was reading this yesterday as Sarge came home from work, he put the key in the door and I jumped so high my butt cleared my seat. Now, I know all about my heightened fright-reflex, but that was a little excessive.
I consider this one research.
How many books are you reading now?
What keeps you reading to the end?
What makes you want to throw a book across a room?