GAAAAHHHHH!!! I really need to read the details whenever I reserve a book at the library. I was not expecting The Fireman to be this brick-sized, mother trucker of a read.
Speaking of thick books, I’m officially giving up on Murakami’s The Wind-up Bird Chronicle, at least for now. I find it hard to focus on dense books, especially when they don’t grab your attention right off the bat like, oh, books by Stephen King. I’ve been slowly chipping at IT, and because certain scenes and details are terrifyingly memorable, it’s easy to pick up where I left off. Seriously, one large tome at a time!
I’m in desperate need of a brain scrubber after my brief return to Yoko Ogawa’s dark and uncomfortable exploration of longing and desire in Hotel Iris, so at the library today I grabbed a few books that I’m 99 percent sure don’t contain a shred of bdsm. Oops, spoilers.
You know, when I was in high school, I used to gobble up novels of a salacious nature (I’m looking at you, V. C. Andrews.) on a weekly basis, but when I got into my mid-20’s my preferences began to change, and now when I want to read anything titillating, I turn to fanfiction. It’s a guilty pleasure.