Nov

15

Too Many Books

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I have too many books.  This happens now and then, when library requests placed over the course of several months suddenly come together and all show up at once.  So the current quandary is what to read first.

I have already made significant headway through the Rabbit tetralogy–I am about halfway through Rabbit Redux, the second book.  This one took first priority simply because of its extreme length.  I am liking the Rabbit books much more than I thought I would, though it’s still within the realm of expectation.  I may respect Updike, but they’re not the kind of books I would buy and put on my bookshelf.  (Unlike Eastwick, which will likely find a place there should I happen upon an edition I like.)

Jumping to the front of the queue was Juliet, Naked by Nick Hornby.  It was one I was looking forward to and it seemed very likely there were other people requesting it, which meant I wouldn’t be able to renew.  I finished it last night and find myself both pleased and disappointed.  It is vastly better than his last book, which I didn’t even get 50 pages into.  However, it is not up to his best.  It seems Mr. Hornby, who was for so long obsessed with the man-child approach to life, is now obsessed with the pangs of middle-age.  The latter has much less verve than the former.  The book was certainly an improvement, but there was just something missing.

I realized that I currently think of Nick Hornby much the way I think of John Irving.  Both wrote a book 15-20 years ago that is one of my very very favorites.  (High Fidelity and A Prayer for Owen Meany)  Both tend to stick to particular themes and characters.  Both seem to be losing it a bit as time passes.  And both have written a book that left me wondering if I would ever read them again.  (A Long Way Down and The Fourth Hand)  Both also have new books this year, and I’m still on the waiting list for Irving’s new one.  I doubt either of them will be able to go back to the heights they once had, but I still tend to root for them anyway.  Juliet, Naked is still a fun book to read, especially for people with an interest in music.  Unfortunately, that pretty much guarantees a comparison to High Fidelity, which has such a gripping obsession with music that the comparison is not a good one for Juliet.

The next book to step up is Jar City by Arnaldur Indridason, an Icelandic mystery.  It is due next week, though I’m not sure I’ll finish it by then.  Likely to be sitting for a bit are books by C. J. Box and James M. Cain (a rather strange pairing–a low-key Western mystery writer and a master of suspense) which I may not actually get to in all the commotion.  After my Icelandic book, it’s most likely I’ll dive into The Lost City of Z by David Grann, one of my few nonfiction efforts for the year.

My most recent library trip only complicated this list by adding the sequel to Hunger Games, Michael Chabon’s newest book of essays, and the new A. S. Byatt which was shortlisted for the Booker.  Currently on the way to the library are a quick and likely fluffy thriller I should be able to plow through and a new novel I don’t know much about with plenty of hold requests.  It is going to be a tough month.


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