I've been struggling for a while with why I'm actually writing this blog, and I don't know that I've come up with any satisfactory reasons. As a result, I am sure, I am struggling too with what to write, and why, and all those sorts of difficult questions.
For Diana's assigned reading this summer, she has a choice: Life of Pi or The Secret Life of Bees. As you might know, those aren't exactly kid's books.
Chestnut has Stargirl, along with, as she puts it, "some nonfiction book about bullying."
And me? I have no assigned reading exactly, though my book group is reading My Life in France, by Julia Child, which is endearing and delightful. But I've been bouncing around, bookwise, not quite landing on anything that I love, though lots of things I want to talk about.
So. I sort of thought, maybe I will write about those here. Maybe what I want to talk about, what I've always wanted to talk about, is books, and the books I was immersed in have been kids books.
I just don't know, I will have to see.
Here's what I can tell you: I just finished Author! Author! by David Lodge, which is not a great book but which is heartfelt, or at least it seemed so to me. It's about Henry James, mostly the period of his life when he was trying to be a playwright, poor soul. And while it seemed oddly constructed and haphazard at times, it is also evidence of a deeply generous heart—Lodge's, I mean. It is a book about failure, really, and I've been thinking a lot about failure lately. The end was clumsy and affecting both. It's a book, I think, for a person who is no longer young, who knows a thing or two about failure, and continues on. I wish you would all read it and tell me what you think. Though of course, that's not fair to ask.
I will just have to see how this goes.