Monday, February 04, 2008
Reading is Progress, Right?
I was supposed to take January to knock out the Hippo book proposal, once and for all.
Instead of writing books, I read books. It's partially Brett's fault, since his admission of having knocked only one book off his to-be-read pile spurred me to tackle my own pile of books. Which unfortunately gets a little bigger every Sunday, when I visit the one-dollar used book sale at the church down the street. So it's also my fault for not resisting the pull of the used book sale.
Here's what I've gotten through in 2008, when I was supposed to be working on my own book proposal
Eat, Pray, Love. This one was even cheaper than a dollar, since I got it out of Craig's free books pile when he left Egypt. I kept trying to give it back to him as it is autographed to him, but he refused to take it, having finished it over a year ago. My latest plan is to mail it (unmarked) to him at his new office in Princeton.
Battle of the Bands. Steve Buccellato's Tokyopop manga, in which bands have to fight for the right to perform, or rather fighting is part of the performance. I realize that sounds ridiculous, and seems even more so when you see the cover of the four female protagonists hanging out in a hot tub in their bikinis, but it's actually tongue-in-cheek.
Earthlight 1 and Earthlight 2. Stuart's Tokyopop series about kids who go to high school. On the moon.
Around the World in 80 Dates, by Jennifer Cox. Read as part of my research into what other women's "emotional growth through travel" books are out there.
Glory In A Camel's Eye, by Jeffrey Tayler. I like Jeffrey Tayler's books, but this one surprised me because when I finished it and turned it over, an old friend's name (from my creaky old indie rock days) stared at me from the design credits. The book is a great read and the cover design is exceptional. I liked it before I checked the credits.
On Chesil Beach, Ian McEwan. I was flummoxed by the protagonist's actions. "Why doesn't he just apologize? What is his problem?" Could I have brought my own baggage along for the read? Er, uh, maybe.
Yoga for People Who Can't Be Bothered to Do It, by Geoff Dyer. He petulantly argues with touts and admits (gasp) to being jaded and bored. Not even a nod to what he surely knows is expected of him in a travel book. Who said any book classified as travel has to be whimsical, insightful, or about an internal voyage mirroredbythephysicalevoyagewithnoblesavages blah blah blah? I loved it. I bet he got brutalized on Amazon.
February. That's the month I'll finish my book proposal. No more reading until I have a proposal to show others.