||[Jun. 29th, 2015|07:58 am]
one thing at a time
Begun and abandoned: Brick Lane, adult fiction by Monica Ali, and another whose name I forget, both for gratuitous death of beloved child, once at the one-third mark, once on page four. |
Why We Broke Up, young-adult fiction by Daniel Handler. In which the smart kids quote old movies and the football player has never met a smart girl before. She's, like, interested in stuff. It's readable, in its way, but it's so, so old.
Momma Zen: Walking the Crooked Path of Motherhood, nonfiction for adults by Karen Maezen Miller. She makes a style and a voice out of the insistence that her experience is universal; she's wrong in ways both trivial and fundamental, and she doesn't seem to care.
Lost Memory of Skin, adult fiction by Russell Banks. The Stephen King gold star for characters who live and breathe; if there's a meaning here, I'm not sure I like it, but I'm also not sure I need one.
The Tightrope Walkers, marketed as young-adult fiction, by David Almond, but there is absolutely nothing that constitutes this text as appropriate for young adults, either in content or in perspective, excepting possibly the inexplicably happy ending. As a novel, in its own right, it's not half bad.