Thanks, Shelf Improvers

I started this blog in late October and today we passed a milestone. Well, not really “we.” More like “you.”

This blog has been seen by readers more than 1,000 times. Yay you. Or maybe, Yay, me.

In  honor of this occasion, I’m going to offer a special gift to those who visit this page: A peek inside my Commonplace Book.

Classics Challengers: It’s off to Siberia

I’ve been putting off announcing the next category in the Classics Challenge 2015 because I’ve been waiting for more people to post reviews of the first category, a classic by a woman. But either people are slower readers than I am or maybe you dropped out or just don’t want to post, but it’s time to announce the second category: A Russian classic.

Really, there’s no better time to read a Russian novel than the middle of winter while the snow piles up outside. Light a fire, wrap yourself in a blanket and top off your glass of vodka. I can think of nothing better, frankly.

Still growing in Brooklyn

How are you doing, Classics Challengers? I’ve finished reading my first book; the category was a classic by a woman author. When you have finished yours, post your review in the comments section of this entry. I look forward to hearing what you read and what you thought about it.

Getting under your skin

Sometimes, when stuck in the middle of a longer book that may not be grabbing me at the moment, I call time out and read something else. It’s a sort of intermission that gives me renewed vigor when I return to the longer book.

That’s what happened recently when I saw a book at the store that had a title that could not be ignored: “The Gigantic Beard That Was Evil.” I thought it sounded like fun and requested it from the library, which was when I discovered it was a graphic novel. Not that kind — a comic-book style novel. Even better for my mood.

And I Thought Philip Roth Had Issues

Now I’m no prude. Really. I read Philip Roth. I love a bawdy joke. I watch (God forgive me) “American Horror Story.” But I have to draw the line somewhere. Most recently, it was Page 122 of Robert Olen Butler’s “They Whisper.”

I’ve owned this book for a long time. I’ve started it a couple times, but never got very far. The last time I started it was shortly after one of my kids was born. Dumb. A time when you aren’t getting much sleep and aren’t in the mood for anything else is not a time to read a stream-of-consciousness erotic novel.