Aunt Cee emailed me this week to talk books. She rattled off twenty-five titles she had consumed in the past few years and “shelved” her have-reads under seven categories, two of them intriguing me the most: Some dystopian types that seem rather relevant to our times and MUCH creeeepier than I thought! A blend of envy and urgency shot through me.
The year skitters away like the fallen leaves, and because of my Aunt Cee, my mind once more rushes to the book list and all my wonderful reading intentions for the year.
I dig out the document again and find I’m far behind. (Here are my to-reads for 2024.)
How am I doing?
All the Light We Cannot See was the only book I actually read aloud with Flicka. After that, we listened to the audiobook of Crime and Punishment while painting the downstairs bedroom in June. I wasn’t sure if I was meant to laugh at the social commentary and Dickensian style, but I did anyway. The book outlasted our painting by about fifteen hours, so if you don’t wish to invest the better part of a work week ingesting the thing, probably don’t start.
I meandered off the list when my sisters recommended Everything Sad is Untrue by Daniel Nayeri, a memoirish account—told through the eyes of a ten-year-old boy—of life as an immigrant moving from Iran to Oklahoma. I loved every minute of it. The truth of his statement, “all our memories are lies we tell ourselves,” rattled me.
My audio Bible in a Year plan was supposed to feed me the Good Book in edible portions throughout the whole twelve months, but the servings were so heavy some days that I finished on Tuesday—seven weeks before New Year’s Eve.
The Thursday Murder Club, a delightful romp, inspired me to believe when my septuagenarian years come, I too will solve crimes by using my sharp memory and astute observation.
I tackled a few other books on my list too, but when a friend gave me a copy of Kiss Your Dentist Goodbye by Ellie Phillips, DDS, I dropped my other reading to flip through it and ultimately ordered Larineco’s remineralizing gum. The book doesn’t endorse this brand, but it fit with the protocol, so I ordered several boxes. And for a month, I was convinced I had been scammed—until the gum arrived this week. But I digress.
How goes your reading?
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*Names in this blog have been changed to protect my family, neighbors, and friends in the neighborhood, and in a nod of appreciation to the beloved Swedish author Maj Lindman, I’ve renamed my three blondies Flicka, Ricka, and Dicka.