I just finished Rule of the Bone, which was basically what I imagine Holden Caulfied would have written if he were a nineties mallrat hooked on weed. Coincidentally, I've had a copy of Catcher in the Rye next to my desk all week (which I got free from my favorite bookstore), and people keep mentioning how much they hated that book when they stop by. I loved Catcher in the Rye. And it ocurred to me that it was probably because I was the kind of sad teen who could relate to a kid like Holden. Maybe Catcher is the kind of book that resonates only with messed up kids, not well-adjusted ones that go on to succeed in advertising.

Meanwhile, I'm about halfway through Laurie Notaro's Autobiography of a Fat Bride, a collection of essays with humor that's somewhere between David Sedaris and Cathy. Maybe, after all the Nakeds and Running with Scissors out there, I just expect more when it comes to twisted humor. Because I can't decide whether it's witty, surprise funny or predictable funny. But that doesn't matter. Either way, Fat Bride is a fantastic choice for the CTA or the shitter.

p.s. I did love Notaro's essay about meeting her future husband. Made me laugh out loud on the bus, then quickly shut my book so I wouldn't have to explain to the guy next to me what was so funny about "underpants made out of fake black monkey fur."

After The Archivist, I needed something a little lighter and not so heavy on Eliot quotes. So I started American Fuji last night.

Rachel--that was a great essay about "lost recipes". And I *love* Marion Cunningham, especially The Breakfast Book and Learn to Cook with Marion Cunningham.

I hung around the house this weekend while N, L and N's out-of-town friend transformed our kitchen from to awful to awesome. And I didn't have to do a lick of work! Then, first thing this morning, found this on houseinprogress.

I love vintage books. I have this fantastic copy of one of Betty Crocker's cookbooks from the fifties, complete with instructions on everything from making the perfect cookie the appropriate dinner layout for your husband when he returns from work. And don't get me started on the series of Nancy Drew books I goodwilled 20 years ago....

Non-book-related item:

Dammit! Wesley Clark's clothes are selling better on ebay than mine are.

n.b. The above statement does not constitute a Wrybrarian endorsement for Wesley Clark. Wrybrarian is still carefully considering its support for the 2004 Presidential (read: anybody BUT Bush) election.

Last week, I read Icy Sparks by Gwyn Hyman Rubio. My friends here are always swapping books we've read, and I am usually up for reading just about anything that looks decent that falls into my hands. Such is life without a Border's or B&N superstore on every corner. Icy Sparks was all right, but not great, and I don't know why Oprah was so moved by it that she would choose if for her book club. The ending was rather abrupt, and it just didn't leave me feeling much of anything. And enough already with using a person's name as a clever literary device/title. Seriously, the girl's name in the book is Icy Sparks. How many other books can you think of that use a place or person's name as a title to signify something? Empire Falls comes to mind. Hey, it's the name of a place, like Niagara Falls. But wait, it also kind of means that an empire or community is falling or breaking apart.....hmmm.

This week I am reading The Archivist by Martha Cooley. Being a librarian, I thought the cover looked cool, and it would be about an archivist. This has been a good train book, but the middle third got bogged down with a manic depressive's tedious journal entries.

Rachel, I am so surprised by how much you loved Donna Tartt's book. It got totally thrashed in reviews, and went straight to mass market paperback. People said that it rambled on with no point, and that the ending was excrutiating. Now you've got me thinking that I should pick up my mother's copy next time I'm back there.

I have been shamed into blogging again, having realized that my last entry was over a week ago! Eeek. So following is a play-by-play reading recap:

Finished: Donna Tartt's The Little Friend, a story about a pre-teen Scout-esque girl trying to make a life for herself in a southern family still reeling from the death of her older brother. Part murder mystery, part coming of age story, The Little Friend is one of the best books I've read in months. It's a keeper.

I also read Plane Insanity, fittingly, on the plane home from my parents' house. PI is a compilation of the experiences of a straight male flight attendent--and syndicated columnist--Elliot Hester. It's funny, easy reading, and not too scary, even when you're on a plane. Lotsa stories about sex, bodily fluids and odors. I also really enjoyed the insider's perspective on a service industry. It reminded me of another favorite memoir, Waiting: The True Confessions of a Waitress.

In progress: Still working on the fantastically geeky Word Freak, the true story of a sports reporter who gets hooked on Scrabble after delving into the world of competitive players for a story. It's the perfect next-to-bed book. It's not so fascinating that it keeps me awake at night, but not so boring that I put it down before I'm finished. Plus, I've found more words that I don't recognize (even in author Stefan Fatsis' prose), than in any book I can remember. Dictionary not withstanding.

In the cue:

Rule of the Bone and White Oleander

Hungover. Still reading The Little Friend.

Finished over New Years? Three bosom-rippers (my "guilty pleasure," hehe), plus Eugenides'Virgin Suicides. While a remarkable feat of characterization engineering, I still much preferred Middlesex. I think Liam summed it up best yesterday, when he said, "that book was just boring." I have to admit, I spent the first two hundred pages waiting for the suicides to actually happen.

Meanwhile, I'm still hard at work on Word Freak and The Little Friend.

Happy new year.

My pal Krissy Crowbar gave me a copy of Fargo Rock City for the winter holiday. Quite possibly, this book is the most articulate and creative assessment of the entire genre of hair metal. It prompted me to EBAY a copy of Appetite For Destruction, Back In Black, and Girls! Girls! Girls!

Also, a friend of Mr. Klosterman finally defined "Guilty Pleasure" in a way that makes perfect sense to me: A guilty pleasure is something that I pretend to like ironically, but secretly really like. Ain't that the truth.......

Did you see this on the Blogger main page? How To Get A Book Deal With Your Blog

Dear God I am bored. Of course, I could be doing some research, but I'm shopping for digital cameras, which is part of my digital camera saga. You see, I bought a digital camera off of ebay back in July, to sell stuff on ebay, then broke it when I was attempting to do my Jack Black impersonation with a miniature guitar. N tried to fix it, but ended up gluing the part I broke to the actual camera itself. So I bought another camera off of half.com, but got totally ripped off--my fault, not the sellers. It's unlike me to inadequately research something before I buy it, but it happened in this case. So I sold the crappy camera I purchased, and want a nicer one that is compatible with my broken G3 powerbook (don't ask). Total cost spent on digital cameras this year? $120. Total amount of money made on ebay? $55.

Still reading The Little Friend, Word Freak and Virgin Suicides. (Yup, all at the same time. When I was a kid, my grandma used to read at least two or three books at a time, and I wanted to be like her.) On the docket is Rule of the Bone.