Averaging out my usual vacation-time (or non-vacation, for that matter) reading, I don't think I read much this summer. I'll mention a few, which on this occasion happen to be all of them. Wow, it almost looks like I have a life or something.
First, I read Fahrenheit 451. It instantly became one of my favorites, and was worth losing sleep on the plane for the hour or so it took to finish it.
Later, I found John Grisham's new book, The Appeal. He effectively depresses the reader by ensuring us the bad guy losing a trial means squat. It's got a message, and it expresses it well. And it has some great storytelling. Not one of my favorites, but it's good.
I also read a book called Stuff White People Like. It's worth a laugh or two. I took the quiz at the back and realized I'm not very white. Just a little bit.
In finding out I'm not very white, I felt free to read Jazz, by Toni Morrison (White people only like books by Nick Hornby, not that there's anything wrong with that). I liked the idea of a book written like jazz music, and I wasn't disappointed. It's hard to follow at times (it's written like jazz, duh) but it comes together in a good way. I wasn't expecting it to end the way it did, so it made me appreciate it more.
One reoccurring theme in Jazz stated we can never understand people just by observing them. You mean, like, reading a book about them? No, I'm sure that still works fine.
P.S. This has nothing to do with books, but I'm enjoying the crap out of The Clash CD I bought this summer. It's got Lost in the Supermarket and Rudy Can't Fail, two of my new favorite songs. Why didn't you old people tell us there was good music back then? Oh wait, I think you did. Never mind.
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