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Mar. 2nd, 2007 10:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
omnia_mutanturSadly, the lovely lady had to go home early, so I'm consoling myself with the new Ben&Jerry's Creme Brulee ice cream (So Good) and posting about books I read last month.
Saffron and Brimstone: strange stories by Elizabeth Hand. A gift from said lovely lady. As per usual with books of short stories, some I loved and some left me cold. Also, it made me want a tattoo even more. I really need to find an association-free-but-reputable artist, which probably means leaving Western Mass to do so.
The Final Solution by Michael Chabon. Short, intriguing. Still gearing up for Kavalier and Clay. His portrayal of extreme old age is a little bit unconvincing.
Down and Out in Paris and London by George Orwell. This was pretty awesome. I hope somewhere, someone is reading it for some really interesting college class.
The Sandman. King of dreams by Alisa Kwitney. B&N sale rack. Pretty book.
Fragile Things by Neil Gaiman. Another present. Awesomeness, particularly the lovecraftian Holmes story.
Going Postal by Terry Prachett. I have mixed feelings about Prachett. This was one of the truly enjoyable ones, though.
The Memory Game by Nicci French. An obligation book, lent to me by a coworker. I was totally convinced it was the brother of the narrator who killed the sister of the narrator's husband. It wasn't.
Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist by Rachel Cohn and David Levithan. There are no words. This made me want to buy it for everyone I know, make endless mix tapes, and generally just jump around and squeal a lot.
The Talented Mr Ripley by Patricia Highsmith. So, I'm one of those awful women who, when the TV does something embarrassing either mutes it or leaves the room. This entire book made me want to do that. It was also a lot more like The Price of Salt then I had imagined it would be.
I'm still feeling all gross inside, and am tempted to exacerbate that by going to read the livejournals of people who don't like me, or mull over lost friendships. Instead, however, I will finish The 89th Kitten (a gift from Unexpected), and then go to bed. Tomorrow, I will go furniture hunting, purchase some new CDs and a box to mail a present in and generally coddle myself. I may even begin my scarf.
Saffron and Brimstone: strange stories by Elizabeth Hand. A gift from said lovely lady. As per usual with books of short stories, some I loved and some left me cold. Also, it made me want a tattoo even more. I really need to find an association-free-but-reputable artist, which probably means leaving Western Mass to do so.
The Final Solution by Michael Chabon. Short, intriguing. Still gearing up for Kavalier and Clay. His portrayal of extreme old age is a little bit unconvincing.
Down and Out in Paris and London by George Orwell. This was pretty awesome. I hope somewhere, someone is reading it for some really interesting college class.
The Sandman. King of dreams by Alisa Kwitney. B&N sale rack. Pretty book.
Fragile Things by Neil Gaiman. Another present. Awesomeness, particularly the lovecraftian Holmes story.
Going Postal by Terry Prachett. I have mixed feelings about Prachett. This was one of the truly enjoyable ones, though.
The Memory Game by Nicci French. An obligation book, lent to me by a coworker. I was totally convinced it was the brother of the narrator who killed the sister of the narrator's husband. It wasn't.
Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist by Rachel Cohn and David Levithan. There are no words. This made me want to buy it for everyone I know, make endless mix tapes, and generally just jump around and squeal a lot.
The Talented Mr Ripley by Patricia Highsmith. So, I'm one of those awful women who, when the TV does something embarrassing either mutes it or leaves the room. This entire book made me want to do that. It was also a lot more like The Price of Salt then I had imagined it would be.
I'm still feeling all gross inside, and am tempted to exacerbate that by going to read the livejournals of people who don't like me, or mull over lost friendships. Instead, however, I will finish The 89th Kitten (a gift from Unexpected), and then go to bed. Tomorrow, I will go furniture hunting, purchase some new CDs and a box to mail a present in and generally coddle myself. I may even begin my scarf.
