Last week we went to Florida and basically sat on our pasty butts by the pool, guzzled cheap beer, ate fish, read books, played cards, and napped.
We Sold Our Souls by Grady Hendrix. A rock band makes a deal with the devil. Hilarity ensues.
Deep Creek: Finding Hope in the High Country by Pam Houston. A lovely but sad book about owning a ranch in Colorado on a dying planet.
How to Be Famous by Caitlin Moran. She cracks me up.
Horrorstör by Grady Hendrix. Legions of the dead take over an Ikea. Hey, I was on vacation.
Against Creativity by Oli Mould. How ‘creativity’ has been co-opted by capitalism and how to fight it. (Gave up half way.)
The Diary of a Bookseller by Shaun Bythell. A quite interesting and droll account of what it’s like to run a Scottish used book store in the days of Amazon.
The Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner by James Hogg. A crazy gothic novel from 1824 that is gripping and head-scratching.
Men Explain Things to Me by Rebecca Solnit. I won’t explain this feminist classic to you.
Gold by Chris Cleave. I loved his book, Little Bee, but this cheesy story of two Olympic cyclists and a child with cancer was more of a little C (minus).
Twilight of the Gods: A Journey to the End of Classic Rock by Steven Hyden. A mediocre meditation on a subject I care only vaguely about. Not in the same league as my main man, Chuck Klosterman. Gave up on the plane home.
When I wasn’t catatonic or buried in a book, I did a bit of drawing.