Eat Me! No, Wait. Read Me, Then Eat Me.

Okay, what am I not reading right now? Nothing.

Oh, except for my students’ essays! Ba-dum-bum.

I somehow managed to join not one but two book clubs, after years and years of being in two huge book clubs called the English Program, and then the MFA Program. Luckily, both of the book clubs are really different. One has an emphasis on mysteries, and has mostly family members in it, and the other has an emphasis on the Modern Classics, and I don’t really know anybody in it superwell. I’m looking forward to both of them– excuses to buy and read books! I have to go to B&N, darn it, I’ve gotta buy a book. Oh! Look, I have a legitimate reason for going on Amazon!

So, for Fae’s Mystery Club– does it have a name? I don’t know– I’m reading Jar City, by Arnaldur Indridason. The last D has a funny little thingee, and and I have a feeling it’s pronounced like a Delta. I really like it! I wasn’t sure I would. I’ve read the first two Stieg Larsson mysteries, but I have to admit as much as I liked the first one, I can’t seem to get into the second one. I’ve lost the mystery. I mean, not the physical book, but the mystery itself has been lost underneath a burdensome amount of details. And they are sex worker details– which I recognize as a worthy cause, but I have absolutely no interest in reading about even more brutality in an already brutal series of mysteries.

I thought Jar City would be hard boiled, along those lines, but it isn’t. It’s a straightforward mystery, so far, but just with a lot of Icelandic context. It really reminds me of what Soho Press puts out, and I wonder why that isn’t the publisher?

For Shannon’s Modern Classics Club– I’m sure she’ll come up with something way catchier than that– we’re reading F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Tender is the Night. I haven’t read any Fitzgerald since The Great Gatsby in high school! I’m looking forward to what my adult self thinks of him. Will I like him more, or less?

When I was in high school, I lovedlovedloved Evelyn Waugh. Oh, he was a God. I loved everything he wrote, and read it all. But then last year I read an interview he did with The Paris Review, and he came off as such an affected twat! So now I have that complete collection of his short stories, but I might just have to wait another year to read it, in order to get the mental taste out of my figurative mouth. Blech and ptooey!

There are, it seems, only two constants in my life. The first is Baedeker– the old ones, anyway. They never cease to get me hot and bothered. Why? Probably too much E. M. Forster at an impressionable age. The other constant– cookbooks. God, I love them. I love old ones, the more out of date the better. I love foreign ones, even if they are in another language. I love the Culinaria ones and those cheapie international ones from B&N. I love ones from the 60’s and all those bizarro jello mold things. I love them, to look at them, peruse them. I hardly ever actually use them, unless I’ve got something specific I want to make or research.


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