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*What book are you reading? (part 2)

Eon. Haven't read it for ten years. Trouble is I'm so tired all the time that eveytime I pick it up I read two pages before drifting off into a deep sleep.
 
just finishing the book of dave - on the last few chapters.. i *think* i liked it :hmm:

next: the courage to heal (ellen bass & laura davis) - bit intimidated by the title, one particular bit of the blurb, and the sheer length of it.
's not exactly light reading :oops:

have got 'introducing consciousness' (papineau/sehna), 'toast' (nigel slater. again) and 'a dog's heart' (mikhail bulgakov) lined up as good distractions.
 
David Sedaris - Me Talk Pretty One Day, one of two Sedaris books a friend gave me as a gift.

Absolutely excellent :)
 
Vince Cable - The Storm: The Global Economic Crisis and What it Means

I don't agree with all of it - too liberal for me in places - but I can see why Cable is so well regarded. I doubt many politicians have anywhere near as coherent an understanding of the current crisis as he does.
 
Off the top of my head

Home by Marilynne Robinson
The Right Hand of Sleep by John Wray
Demanding the Impossible: A History of Anarchism by Peter Somebody.

I am re-reading The Crying of Lot 49 by Thomas Pynchon.

I also recently read Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy.

I had only read The Road before, and I didn't think much of it. Blood Meridian is brilliant, though.
 
Jesus, that book really raises my hackles

Fuck off and cheer up you miserable bitch :D (sylvia, not you!)

Heh.

Yeah you're not gonna die laughing or anything reading it for sure. But I absolutely love Sylvia Plath's work, always have. :)

I have not read The Bell Jar, I have only read her poems, and they are gorgeous. Some of the words are almost tasty.

:cool:

You should give it a read. :)
 
You're, by Sylvia Plath

Clownlike, happiest on your hands,
Feet to the stars, and moon-skulled,
Gilled like a fish. A common-sense
Thumbs-down on the dodo's mode.
Wrapped up in yourself like a spool,
Trawling your dark as owls do.
Mute as a turnip from the Fourth
Of July to All Fools' Day,
O high-riser, my little loaf.

Vague as fog and looked for like mail.
Farther off than Australia.
Bent-backed Atlas, our traveled prawn.
Snug as a bud and at home
Like a sprat in a pickle jug.
A creel of eels, all ripples.
Jumpy as a Mexican bean.
Right, like a well-done sum.
A clean slate, with your own face on.

Gorgeous.

millymolly introduced me to that one.

:cool:
 
that book is incredible

i read it all in one night on a teenage speed binge. And then in the morning went downstairs and found my mother on the floor covered in vomit with the phone in one hand and a bottle of pills in the other hand. I got her the urgent help she needed, but often wonder if i should have just kept fucking walking
 
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