I’m so good

I’m so pleased with myself. I have made a conscious effort to read more. I have never been an avid reader, but I think over the past year I have discovered the true joy of reading. I think I have read more from September to now than I have my whole life (that’s probably an exageration, but not far off).

Since January, Jim and I have been keeping a tally of our read books on this site - filed under "Books." As you can see, I am now on book #8. For those of you who are crazy speed readers, this probably does not seem like much of an accomplishment, but for me, I’m very impressed with myself.

I have enjoyed all of the books I’ve read this year. Some are probably more frivolous than others, but definately still enjoyable. Typhoid Mary was probably my least favourite because I didn’t get overly attached to the characters and the shopaholic book was fine, but it took me a while to get into it.

I think I am becoming a Maeve Binchy fan. I read Scarlet Feather before Christmas and just finished Quentins. She doesn’t seem to write the most thought provoking books, but I get incredibly attached to the characters and I don’t want the book to end because I will miss the people.

Here’s a quick synopsis of the other books I’ve read this year…

A complicated kindness - this book won the Governor’s General award for fiction. I enjoyed the book; however it was depressing. Normally I like reading somewhat uplifting books or suspenseful books, but this book was just plain depressing. Some people may say it ended in a somewhat positive light, but I again, just felt depressed.

Little Children - I really enjoyed this book and got attached to the characters. Again, things weren’t all hunky doory by any means, but when I feel like I know the characters, that normally means it’s a good book in my terms.

The conspiracy club - I bought this book at the Deer Lake airport, so there wasn’t a whole lot of selection. I enjoyed it, but it’s your typical cheap, suspense type novel. Nothing overly smart about it.

I am currently reading Runaway, by Alice Munro. It’s a book of short stories. I’m on the fourth short story and I have enjoyed them all, although they all seem to be depressing. This book won the Giller Prize. What’s the deal, do only depressing books win awards??