I’ve done “True Confessions Tuesday” and “True Confessions Thursday” before. I’ve never done one on a Saturday before, probably because it doesn’t have quite as good a ring to it. So my confession is this: I’m tired of writing about The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay. I’m still enjoying reading it, but I can’t seem to come up with any profound thoughts about it, probably because I’m writing about it too often, and in small chunks. I hope that if I take a break for a few days and have a chance to look at bigger sections of it I’ll be able to come up with better thoughts than “I’m worried Joe is going to run off and join the Army.”
So then there’s the question: what the heck do I write about tonight? I just said I wasn’t writing about K&C (even though I sort of still am). I’m not reading anything else except Paradise Lost (hahahahahahahaha—I’m not really reading that. I think it’s pretty amusing that Bethany and I are going to finish our first reading challenge on Postcards from Purgatory in Purgatory). But I am going to start a book somewhat soon, my August Numbers Challenge Book: Candace Bushnell’s masterwork, Sex and the City.
You’ll probably be asking yourselves at some point how in the heck Sex and the City ended up on a reading list with Pulitzer Prize winners and books written by Nobel Laureates? The answer is simple. I was drinking when I made up my book list and I thought it would be funny. I also thought it would be an easy read wedged in the midst of many very long books. And, not least of all, I used to quite like chick lit, and Sex and the City may or may not be one of the “grandmothers” of the chick lit genre. I’ll talk more about my love affair with the TV series that was based on this book when I actually start reading it. I hope I like the book, I really do, because I loved the TV show. But I hope that if I don’t like it, I can find lots of things in it to make fun of.
I agree – I don’t enjoy writing about books in progress very much. Sometimes it’s because I have nothing new to say, and other times it’s because I worry that if I write too much when the book is in progress I won’t have anything to say at the end. My thoughts on Robinson Crusoe on Friday were an act of desperation.
The irritating thing is that last night when I was reading before bed a bunch of stuff happened in my book that I had thoughts about (Sammy’s weekend away with the boys and the fallout from that, Joe running away to an underground frozen lair with a bunch of stinky dogs). I might just cease and desist updates till I get to the end. I’m surprised no one has made that book into a movie yet, honestly.
Also, I liked your Crusoe post. Didn’t seem like desperation to me.