From One Book Lover

Recently, I managed to wrack up a $30 Kindle book bill one month buying books priced at $3 or less. Now, $30 isn't huge in the grand scheme of things — I can spend that on a single printed book (sans latte) at a full-price bookstore. However, I am always looking for a great deal, so I reviewed my Kindle and Amazon reading and borrowing privileges. I noticed some of my recent inexpensive buys were Kindle Unlimited or Kindle Prime books, which meant I could read them for free (with some restrictions). Kindle Prime members are Kindle owners who may borrow a single book each month from a select list. Kindle Unlimited permitted readers to borrow, for a fee, an unlimited number of books each month from a select list. Between the two, I could read for three months on what I spent in a single month. But was it really a deal? Were the books I wanted to read Unlimited to me? The short answer: no. The long answer: none of the 130 books on my Amazon book wish list are Unlimited....

It comes out of nowhere and takes the world by surprise, a new virus with a near-total mortality rate. What it does to humanity is devastating. What humanity does in its aftermath is fascinating. In Station Eleven , watch the world through the eyes of people with connection to a single person: the world-famous Arthur Leland. Each has experiences that, when woven together, tell a fascinating, riveting story about hope and loss, love and fear. This isn't a "science fiction" book beyond the idea that it's futuristic and involves the end of the world as we know it. It's the story of people trying to live in a world that is strange, cruel and beautiful. Emily St. John Mandel chooses an interesting, comprehensive cast of characters through which to see this new world, and it was amazing to watch the threads slowly create one of the most interesting, gorgeous designs I've seen in a while. Much like Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale , Mandel doesn’t t...

I hang my head in shame and announce something that should be obvious by now: I did not read Winter's Tale by Mark Helprin, the Polar Book Club book this past winter. I tried. In fact, I am still trying to read it, a few sideways glances at a time. It is perhaps the least enjoyable book I have encountered this year. It was weird, which I normally do not mind (and, truth be told, tend to prefer).  It was tedious reading, scattered, unfocused storytelling.  It also put children in adult situations. Okay, let's not be coy: a pre-teen boy was having all the sex he could muster. I cannot tolerate gratuitous sexualization of children in books, and since the story ambled along in a scattershot way, I did not see the value in that portrayal of a child.  Finally, it was not the story I expected to read. I thought I was getting a love story that stretched across time.  Instead, I managed to get quite a ways into the story without a glimmer of such romanc...

It's the summer reading season, which is when I make  unreasonably long lists of books to read.  It's like the rest of the year, but with a publicly announced ambition. (And warmer. Usually.) As a child, I loved the summer reading club — and found myself really disappointed to find no adult version. So, I did what most people do: I formed my own club and invited my friends, family and interested future reading buddies. (Let's be honest: if you see someone with a book, especially a book you yourself have read, are they really strangers?) Now, the summer has unofficially begun with Memorial Day, a solemn occasion to remember why we have the freedom and opportunity to exercise our rights and privileges as Americans. Please, take a moment to remember the true reason for the day. Review your bookshelves or nightstand to decide what to put on your summer reading list. Here is mind, in no particular order: Good Omens Divergent  Insurgent Allegiant As Yo...

I had no intention of reading Tell the Wolves I'm Home because the description on the jacket was so unappetizing. I am grateful my book club chose this novel — it's one of my favorite reads of the year so far. The book jacket makes the story sound like an AIDS story, which is totally inaccurate. Rather, it's a story of grief and loss; of growing up, growing apart, and growing together; of self-discovery and of the discovery of the world from a different perspective; of family; of tolerance. Carol Rifka Brunt captures this through the voice and experiences of an unlikely character: 14-year-old June, a girl at the stage in life where her self-awareness often shrinks to a microcosm of her own life. AIDS may be a factor in this book, but it is by no means a central character. In fact, the family and community treat the disease — and the people with it — with more compassion and honesty than I would have expected. What a welcome respite from the real world, in which HIV-A...

Are you ready for some reading? Get your books in a row in time for the 2015 Summer Reading Club. There are lots of reasons to enjoy a summer read. You can use it to catch up on the good stuff you think is too Fluff 'n Trash™ for the rest of the year. Maybe it's time to focus on one genre, the one you never admit to in mixed company. Maybe you just want to walk into the library once a week and pick up the first book that looks good. For whatever reason, indulge. Read all summer, and enjoy yourself. And maybe win a book. That's right: if you are the book club member who reads the most books, you will win a new book. The reading period is from Memorial Day through the end of summer. This year, let's choose Friday, May 22 through Sunday, September 27. Send me your list any time you're ready. I'll publish mine by the end of May. Join the club: read all summer!

Dulce Et Decorum Est Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs And towards our distant rest began to trudge. Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind; Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots Of disappointed shells that dropped behind. GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!-- An ecstasy of fumbling, Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time; But someone still was yelling out and stumbling And floundering like a man in fire or lime.-- Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light As under a green sea, I saw him drowning. In all my dreams, before my helpless sight, He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning. If in some smothering dreams you too could pace Behind the wagon that we flung him in, And watch the white eyes writhing in his face, His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;...