Feb

27

Reading So Far

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I am having to deal with the fact that my reading seems to be deteriorating from year to year.  In 2008 I read nearly 12 books a month.  In 2009 I read more than 9 books a month.  In 2010 so far, I am squeaking by with 8 a month.  I’ll have to increase my numbers if I want to hit 100 this year.  Still, I am pretty pleased with my tally thus far.  I am being less patient with books that aren’t great so that when I look back at my list I can actually remember everything I read, which is saying something.

Thus far the tally looks like this:

I think I’d be doing better if I wasn’t reading so many fat books.  Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel is just sitting there in all its gigantic-ness, taking forever, and keeping me from other things.  Just like The Quincunx was before it.  And The Children’s Hour before that.  Perhaps my reading these days isn’t complete without a historical novel doorstop.

Because my Tournament reading list is the entire shortlist, I’ve tried to be very good about reading as many as possible.  I added several books that I didn’t initially plan on.  So far, with only 3 down, I’ve had uniformly good experiences, though I haven’t yet been knocked down and wowed.  Last year I had 3 that I really loved (The Northern Clemency, The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks, and A Mercy) so far I don’t have a favorite in the fight.  The ones I’m in the middle of aren’t wowing me either, though I have to say that my favorite thus far is probably That Old Cape Magic by Richard Russo, which I am more than halfway through and which manages to be both delightful and depressing.  Hopefully it’ll stay that way.

In my non-Tournament reading, I was surprisingly underwhelmed with Zeitoun, which I heard great things about.  Perhaps I was expecting it to reach the heights of What is the What, which I adore fervently.  It didn’t.  And the first half of the book was significantly better than the second.  Still, I like Eggers’ new style, the blending of fiction and non-fiction.

Karin Slaughter’s new thriller was better than most of her old ones.  Louise Penny is a new rather quaint mystery writer I can keep track of.  And no more Stieg Larsson for me.  I just can’t take him anymore.  He bugs me.