Somehow, I’ve still managed to read one book per week in July, and I will share with you what I have read this past month.
Requiem for a Nun – William Faulkner
Reading this book renewed my love for Faulkner, and it brought back some of the magic I experienced upon discovering that a Southern gentleman (?) born in 1897 could have so much in common with me, a female with Northern roots born almost a century later. Requiem for a Nun reads partly like a history book and partly like a play. The style is unique, and at times hard to read, but it adds clarification to some of the events that happened in Sanctuary.
Autobiography of a Recovering Skinhead – Frank Meeink
A brutal firsthand account of what it’s like to be on the inside of the white supremacy movement. The book reveals a lot about what it’s like to live on the streets, the danger of having a neo-Nazi mentality, the power of drug addiction, the lessons learned in prison, and how a person’s childhood and parents can really influence who they become. The book is honest and raw (curse words abound!), and I would expect nothing less from a story of this kind of life.
My Name is Memory – Ann Brashares
I wrote an entire blog about this book. It’s here.
Cold Kiss – Amy Garvey
A nice YA paranormal book, good for light reading (I think I started and finished it over a weekend). A teenage girl with strange powers is able to bring her dead boyfriend back to life, but the consequences get her into a lot of trouble. As usual with YA books, nothing about the book absolutely blew my mind, but I enjoyed the author’s writing style, and of course, the premise.
Angela’s Ashes – Frank McCourt
The main reason I read this book was because it seemed as though everyone else had read it and absolutely raved about how great it was. It was actually quite good; I enjoyed the stream-of-consciousness style and the funny parts interwoven with the tale of drudging through poverty. What amazes me about memoirs and autobiographies is how the authors manage to remember all these things… or if they’re making things up and embellishing things they don’t really remember all that well. I know that if I tried to write about my own childhood, I’d have to make up quite a bit. But there are always exceptions (McCourt’s memory must be amazing), and, true or not, Angela’s Ashes painted a brilliantly clear picture.
Oh, and I re-read Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. Always an amazing children’s/YA book, and one I will definitely read to my future kids over and over again — until they get heartily sick of it.