...forty more to go.
I finished reading Don DeLillo's White Noise over the weekend. While I enjoyed it, it wasn't exactly a novel that compelled me to read on. It had its enjoyable parts--DeLillo's extremely dry wit and sarcasm are entertaining--but I continued to read it because it was picked by the other half of my "Book Duo" for the summer. [Side Note: a fellow teacher at school approached me about starting a book club back in May, and when asked who would be in the club, she replied, "You and me." Hence, we became a book duo.] The first book the Duo read was The Secret Life of Bees, to which one half of the Duo (her) had a violently negative reaction because of the stock characters, predictable plot, and total lack of subtlety. The other half of the Duo (me) found it to be a light, read-it-on-the-beach type of book, which suited me just fine because I was not looking for any kind of intellectual stimulation (it is summer, for gosh sakes!). It was entertaining. Period. As a result of the diametric opposition to the estrogen poisoning encountered while reading Bees, Duo #1 decided to pick something a little more edgy and testosterone-y for the second book. This is where we agreed that we both enjoy reading DeLillo, and so we settled on White Noise. It certainly is NOT The Secret Life of Bees. I didn't enjoy it as much as I might have hoped--and it must have been apparent, as the Suz even commented, "I have never seen you take this long to finish a book." Next on the list: Ten Big Ones by Janet Evanovich, the (obviously) 10th installment in the Stephanie Plum series, which is released tomorrow. Woo hoo! |
iPod Mini |