My first completed (fulfilled?) reading challenge. I signed up for the GLBT Challenge 2009 quite late, about a month ago kind of late. But I caught up—GLBT books aren’t exactly strangers to my TBR Land Mass. The first three books weren’t read for the challenge, but they still fulfilled the rules—and I suppose that’s why I went ahead and signed up. (If you want to read my thoughts on the books, just go clicky the titles to go to the posts.)
I first read The Perks of Being a Wallflower, by Stephen Chbosky, and I read it in one sitting, and I’m very glad I read that book—I fell in love with Charlie, and wanted him to write letters to me. Although, can you imagine the pain when I know I can’t write back? Naked, by David Sedaris, was enjoyable, but not, hm, thoroughly so. There were a couple of essays in which my eyes glazed over, and the episodic adventures could get dragging—but, still, it was an okay enough book. I’ll certainly read him again, just to see why people swear that he’s the funniest thing evahr. Hallucinating Foucault by Patricia Duncker was a disaster. It makes me cringe thinking about the fact that I read it. Goodness, let us not linger. Daughters of the Vicar by D.H. Lawrence was a very short book—about 72 pages—and I read it for the RRReadathon last December 5. And it was a very miserable book filled with the most miserable characters I’ve ever read. Misery in such a condensed format must not be healthy. But I liked it. Huh. What does that say about me? The Highest Hiding Place is a book of poems by a very good friend of mine, L. Lacambra Ypil (hi, Sir Larry), and the poems take your breath away, and I want everyone to read this because they are just so disconcertingly simple but, but, but, you know—the ineffable. Gah, I hate trying to talk about poetry I like. Anyhoo. The last book I read to complete the challenge was Long Life: Essays and Other Writings by Mary Oliver. Before I picked this up, I already didn’t much like Oliver. And while I was reading it, well, I knew I wouldn’t be Oliver anytime soon. I mean, she’s respected and all, and objectively, I get the appeal. But, haha, she just doesn’t touch my heart. (And it’s really too tedious to talk about books that were experientially meh, why waste the energy? At least you get riled up with books you hate.)
I liked this challenge, and although generally, the book list was so-so (but two great books out of six aren’t bad, right?), I’m still excited to do the challenge next year. I do have trouble though, with what—I dunno—what insight I was going to get from the books I was reading. Was I just exploring a new genre, a subculture? Did it help me deal with my own questions about sexuality? Should I have drawn up a list of objectives before I plunged into this challenge?
But, no worries—there’s a new year next year, a new challenge, a lot of new books from my own TBR and beyond, and I can take my time. Time which would give me better book choices. (I’ve already tried to restrain myself from reading the books I’ve set aside to fulfill next year’s challenge, haha.) Time to take it easy, to linger over books I like, time that affords me the, hm, the luxury to toss them abandon-able books to the depths of hell.
Thank you for joining me. :]