I have read a few books since last posting, and started a few more. I read "Flaming Iguanas" in about three days. It's such a short book, and it's put together more like a journal or a scrapbook than a novel. It's square and bright yellow and illustrated by the author. It looks like a novelty, and maybe it is, but I'm all right with that because there were some valuable lessons hiding in there inside the dirty lady with the motorcycle. I did think it was nonfiction at first, and when I realized it wasn't, I was a little sad. The voice was just so believable. I can only give one example of a valuable lesson, and I'm being too lazy to look up the actual quote, but it goes something like this: Happiness is coming home to someone who asks you how your day was and actually gives a shit about the answer. That's it. Problems, schmoblems/everybody has them. Also that forward slash. You see it a lot in that book. Like she's writing poetry but she isn't. She just needs to move to the next line in the verse sometimes. Like that piece of advice about doing the next thing.
My next thing was "The Infernal World of Branwell Bronte" but I have put him on hold in favor of the new A.M. Homes: "May We Be Forgiven." Branwell is fascinating, but when I get a shiny new hardback in the mail and it's signed by the author, I have to eat it before it spoils.
