Having finished my re-read of Margaret Atwood's Oryx and Crake, the rest of this lovely August afternoon is reserved for other reading. Next weekend, another One Weekend, One Book: I'll be re-reading The Year of the Flood. (Oh, these are so good. Actually, good the first time, and great the
What a delicious juxtaposition: the lushness of the farmers' market this morning - and all the bounty and treat-ness that entails - with a re-read of Oryx and Crake planned for the remainder of the day. Like many other readers, I've been tremendously excited by the prospect of the trilogy's
"The more I write, the more I discover that the partition between real and invented is as thin as a wall in a cheap hotel room." So says Jeanette Winterson, but thinking of Mary Novik's novel Muse, one might think the partition as thin as the pope's bedroom chamber curtain.
"No, drinking oneself to death took too long." Harper Collins, 2013 Ironically, Colleen thinks this almost at the end of Lauren B. Davis' The Empty Room. But once a reader has resolved to begin, the narrative is so tightly constructed that readers are as caught in the momentum
A Tap on the Window feels like the quintessential late-summer read. I have to move indoors with my book sooner on August evenings, because the light doesn't last as long, but the neighbourhood still moves to other summer rhythms. And, so, that old yearning for a page-turner. Doubleday -
