Happy November! Holy smokes!
(How To Start a Fire was good. Dietland was by far the oddest of the bunch.)
I obtain a good portion of my reading list from the library, particularly the ebook collection, which is tragically limited. In the end, I don’t mind. I end up reading books I wouldn’t necessarily pick if I were making a purchase.
I have come to the realization that it is almost impossible for me to read a Real Book. You know, like one with actual pages you turn. I kept snagging good ones from the library on impulse, but I never could get to them.
I never thought I would be this person. I resisted ebooks for so long. Out of principle. I used to turn my nose up at that am scoff. Snooty to the brim. And proud.
My sad reality is I do most of my reading in bed, in the dark, next to my sleeping young child, at wee hours of night. I need to be quiet. And a reading light simply won’t do.
Ebooks it is. I gave up on checking out Real Book altogether. I don’t even check the new release shelf anymore. Oh how times have changed.
Tell the Wolves I Am Home was amazing. A perfect example of a limited library selection leading to fabulous books I would have missed out on. I am still aching to know what in the heck was going on with the older sister and the drama coach. Unresolved plot line. Argh!
Can’t go wrong with Jennifer Weiner when between books. It is like picking up a sock to knit when between projects.
And…I discovered there is an actual genre of books called Knitting Fiction. Did you know this? I amin! How to Knit a Love Song was so cheesy and predictable…but I couldn’t put it down. Gah! I finished it in two nights. Sleep was lost. Who knew knitting could be so sexy? Certainly not my husband…
And the Yarn Harlot! Oh, how I love thee. This woman sees into my soul. Big time. I made an exception to my previously cited Ebooks Only policy and checked out the Real Book version from the lbrary.
Completely worth the sacrifice.
At least I think so.