Elizabeth Vonarburg's Reluctant Voyagers (1995) Trans. from the French Jane Brierley Does sci-fi reading use a different muscle? If so, mine is out of practice. And no wonder. With exception of a handful of fantasy novels and one speculative fiction novel, I've been decidedly rooted in realism this reading year.
Muriel Spark's The Driver's Seat (1970) Putnam Publishing, 1984 In between, I forget how chilling they are. Muriel Spark novels. Somehow I mix them up with other skinny reads (like Penelope Fitzgerald novels) and other UK authors (like Penelope Lively), and they don't seem so upsetting, sitting there tidily pressed between
Nathanael West's Miss Lonelyhearts (1933) New Directions, 1946 My friend Margaret put me onto Nathanael West, which is ironic because it was by virtue of her not having recognized his name in a discussion of literary masterpieces; she was relieved that I hadn't heard of him either. Ignorance loves company, even
Suzette Mayr's Venous Hum Arsenal Pulp, 2004 Yes, that's right: it's a mouth. Somehow too many canines, pink fleshy tongue: it's the cover of Venous Hum. Eye-catching from the start, but it makes more sense after you've finished reading. "It's an exclamation mark at the end of a sentence announcing the end
Astrid Lindgren's Pippi Longstocking (1945) Trans. Florence Lamborn Illus. Louis S. Glanzman NY: Viking Press, 1950 My copy of Pippi Longstocking is a bookclub edition, one of several that my mother ordered for me when I was a girl. What sets Pippi (and Rudyard Kipling's Kim) apart in this series, however, is the
