since everyone is writing about books, and i work in a damn bookstore, i think i'll make it a booky post today.
i just finished mr. darcy takes a wife. i put it down for a long time because it really wasn't what i was expecting. it was a little racy for jane austen. the author speculated that since jane never married she never knew anything about sex and therefor never wrote anything about sex. then again she was a vicar's daughter* and it wasn't the most respectable thing for a woman to be a writer quite yet, so i can't see her publishing an edwardian playboy even if she did happen to get it on in her lifetime. the book was not a terrible book and it did explore some interesting ideas and now it's done and it can sit all pretty on my bookshelf until i sell it for an 1/8 of the price, unless ofcourse someone wants to read it?
i just finished another damn memoir. since i finished it the day afer i bought it, it never made it to the i'm currently reading section. i had to special order it from the bookstore, even though we're supposed to have one. fuck if i could find it. this happens often, as i had exactly the same problem with devil in the white city. non-fiction often gets mixed up with fiction because the difference, to most folks, is pretty intangible. it's similar to the distinction between trade and mass market paperbacks. a very fine line. for both books i searched high and low. fiction and non-fiction. i even checked comic books and humor because the cover of i'm not the new me is vaguely comic book esque and some of the folks i work with are morons. and then i special ordered it, and now i'm all done. for all the damn searching i wish i had stretched out the reading a little more.



*almost entirely certain that's a fact.