I've forgotten to update this thing since January. You know, you get busy, you don't do the things you meant to do. At least, I have been reading a lot. Since my last post on here I have finished the following books (I'll keep it down on images, since it would make this post huge):
W.S. Merwin - The Lice
W.S. Merwin - Writings To An Unfinished Accompaniment
W.S. Merwin - The Moving Target
John Ashbery - Where Shall I Wander
Olive Skene Johnson - The Sexual Spectrum
Hakim Bey - Temporary Autonomous Zone
Hakim Bey - Immediatism
Kurt Vonnegut - Breakfast Of Champions
Kurt Vonnegut - God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater
Kurt Vonnegut - Galapagos
Kurt Vonnegut - Cat's Cradle
Neil Gaiman - Anansi Boys
Voltaire - Candide
Fyodor Dostoevsky - Notes From The Underground
Albert Camus - The Stranger
Franz Kafka - The Metamorphosis
Brian Chippendale - Maggots
Jeff Smith - Bone (books 1-3)
Of these books, "God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater" was my absolute favorite, I think. Merwin's poetry is very dear to me, I've read "The Lice" several times now. Maggots by Chippendale has some of my favorite drawings ever put on paper as well, and is worth checking out if you can make it through the process of deciphering what's going on.
I suppose it's important to note that Candide, Notes From Underground, The Stranger, and The Metamorphosis were all for a terrible summer English course my school forced me to take. I had already read the latter two, but oh well. Maggots by Chippendale was also a re-read. Including 100 Years Of Solitude, World War Z, and The Plague, I suppose that brings my total up to 21 books. I am currently reading Capacity by Theo Ellsworth, and should have finished that and probably another book by the end of this week. I am going on a trip to Los Angeles tonight and bringing a few books along for the flight.
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did you like Notes? I had to read it for a class last fall and it was iffy, but I feel that I would have enjoyed it more if it hadn't been forced.
ReplyDeleteI actually hated Notes From Underground. It was one of my least favorite books that I've ever read, but it was sort of for a summer class (I say sort of because the teacher was an idiot and would have passed me if I smeared feces on paper for every assignment, which I pretty much did at the end). Maybe if my life were less depressing at the point in time when I read it, I'd be more receptive to it.
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