The only thing more ironic than reading zero books on your two-week Great American Bookstore Tour is reading one book: a series-concluding young adult novel that I didn’t even buy in print.
In my defense, I did buy nearly 40 new books over the last two weeks, books that have been relegated to a “special” pile atop my kitchen table, where I hope to be reminded on a daily basis that the endgame of buying dozens of unneeded (but oh-so-wanted) new books is that one must eventually get around to reading them. But I suppose dusty used paperbacks — who have spent their recent years crammed in overflowing bookshelves all over the West Coast — should be grateful to have a new and slightly more spacious headquarters in my tiny apartment. They should be thanking me, those books. I gave them a home.
Continue reading “Parents just don’t understand”
Here’s how I see it. These days the life expectancy for women is somewhere around 86, which means I’m only a little less than a third done with my life, which means I still have two-thirds of said life to live as a full-on responsibility-having adult. Which means it would be fair, considering the math, to at this point in time consider myself a young adult, relatively speaking. Which means, as you may all be guessing by now, one very important thing: It’s totally okay that I keep reading all these novels intended for 13-year-olds.
My younger sister turned me on to the latest in my YA addiction: The Gone series, by Michael Grant. There are six books in the series, five of which are published (the sixth is due out next year) and two of which I’ve now finished. Since I value you people’s time (and it would be difficult to review later books in the series without giving away spoilers) I’ll kind of review the whole concept here, rather than in six separate posts. Also because I’m lazy.
Continue reading “The kids are all right”