Monday, August 06, 2012
Summer Reading
As a general matter, I like to challenge myself a bit with my pleasure reading. I will admit that part of this is just because I don't want people to see me reading Entertainment Weekly on the train. They might think I'm shallow or, even worse, a huge Veronica Mars fan. But part of it is also that I really enjoy the mental gymnastics, at least to a point. I didn't particularly love The Brothers Karamazov and Remembrance of Things Past almost killed me.
In the summers, however, I sometimes take a lighter approach. In the past, I have read both Lauren Conrad's L.A. Candy and two selections from the Dan Brown canon. I've also been known to accept a Red Eye at the train station every now and then. And I always make a point of revisiting one of my favorite children's books, with results that widely vary. The Westing Game turned out to be almost as fantastic at 30 as at 13, but Little House on the Prairie was kind of a snooze and Bridge to Terabithia was just a downer. And while I still loved The Wizard of Oz, a lot of the sequels were only wonderful in my memory. Roald Dahl still kills it every time, though. You pretty much have to be a badass when your name is Roald.
As a general matter, I like to challenge myself a bit with my pleasure reading. I will admit that part of this is just because I don't want people to see me reading Entertainment Weekly on the train. They might think I'm shallow or, even worse, a huge Veronica Mars fan. But part of it is also that I really enjoy the mental gymnastics, at least to a point. I didn't particularly love The Brothers Karamazov and Remembrance of Things Past almost killed me.
In the summers, however, I sometimes take a lighter approach. In the past, I have read both Lauren Conrad's L.A. Candy and two selections from the Dan Brown canon. I've also been known to accept a Red Eye at the train station every now and then. And I always make a point of revisiting one of my favorite children's books, with results that widely vary. The Westing Game turned out to be almost as fantastic at 30 as at 13, but Little House on the Prairie was kind of a snooze and Bridge to Terabithia was just a downer. And while I still loved The Wizard of Oz, a lot of the sequels were only wonderful in my memory. Roald Dahl still kills it every time, though. You pretty much have to be a badass when your name is Roald.
