Ah, goodbye December, and with it, 2010. It was a good month for reading. There were a lot of delicious books, and only a handful of duds. It was a chill kind of month, and I’m thankful. Sure beats being harried as the year comes to a close. I’m optimistic enough to think that this augurs well for an awesome 2011. So. Books read:
- Portrait of the Mother as a Young Woman, by Friedrich Christian Delius; translated by Jamie Bulloch.
- An Apology for Idlers, by Robert Louis Stevenson.
- On Solitude, by Michel de Montaigne.
- Dark Hours, by Conchitina Cruz.
- The Corrections, by Jonathan Franzen.
- Sherlock Holmes Selected Stories, by Arthur Conan Doyle.
- Wonder Boys, by Michael Chabon.
- The Wordy Shipmates, by Sarah Vowell.
- Fire in the Blood, by Irène Némirovsky.
- Status Anxiety, by Alain de Botton.
- Varieties of Disturbance, by Lydia Davis.
- The Story Sisters, by Alice Hoffman.
- Imaginative Qualities of Actual Things, by Gilbert Sorrentino.
Next up, a year-ender report, and in there, of course — to appease the perennial dorky list-maker in me — a Best of 2010 list [and, well, a blargh-of-the-year.] And, nope, I can’t limit those to a neat ten, or twelve, or baker’s dozen. I didn’t even dare try, har.