Richard and Stu are once again hosting a Spanish Lit Month this July, and I am very excited to be participating with at least 15 or so other folks it looks like. "All you have to do to attend the party is to read and write about one or more pieces of Spanish language literature or Catalan language literature (read in the original or in translation) in the month of July and then let Stu or [Richard] know about it so [they] can collect the links for others to check out."
My literary crush, Javier Marias is dominating my list of potential reads - All Souls, A Heart So White, Tomorrow in the Battle Think on Me and The Man of Feeling. I also have two titles from Enrique Vila-Mata queued up - A Brief History of Portable Literature and Never Any End to Paris. And I've acquired a copy of The Invention of Morel by Adolfo Bioy Casares for the group read at the end of the month.
Boredom by Alberto Moravia (aka The Empty Canvas as seen above) will be the topic of conversation next weekend as some of us take a break from fireworks and general frivolity to warm ourselves by the fire of complete alienation from humanity. Please join us? I've made it sound so fun that I'm not sure how you could resist now. Richard and I are delighted to host. Please see the invite post here.
And now the big question. Why? As many of you know, I sometimes succumb to the temptation of the book of the moment as well as fiction about books and librarians. This rarely turns out well. And yet I continue to do it. Forever optimistic. So this past week I read Little Bookshop in Paris and The Girl on the Train. Summer reads, palate cleansers before July's big reads. The former started with much promise and concluded as a sappy and shallow and annoying portrayal of romantic love. I skimmed the last half. And The Girl on the Train? Just freaking painful. Damaged women and abusive men inexpertly drawn for the sake of the plot. I should have known as it is frequently compared with Gone Girl which I did not read but was one of the worst movies I saw last year. I'm sorry to all I might be offending here, but please, everyone, do yourself a favor and read Patricia Highsmith's Strangers on a Train and feel genuinely chilled by the possibility that anyone could commit murder. Highsmith is the ultimate badass when it comes to the minds of our neighborhood sociopath or psychopath. And then watch the Hitchcock film adaptation. Just to round out that reading meal. Just an opinion. But please consider.
Back to Boredom for now. What are you reading this weekend?