I have the book 21 Proms sitting on my lap right now. I have 21 fictional prom nights to succumb to (19, actually. I sneaked into reading the first two stories which, bizarrely, ended in the very same manner. Or maybe all friggin' prom stories ended like that? But who am I to say so?). I'm only looking to read the last story in the anthology, which was The Great American Morp by my all-time favorite author, John Green.
I swore in my name I won't read John Green's story until I've read the twenty stories before it, but say hello to future guiltless page-skipping! That's the best thing about reading anthologies and the like. There would be absolutely no detail that would hurt to miss because there's only very little development in any of the stories.
But I have to let go of this book now. It's part of tomorrow's circulation.
Speaking of letting go, I just finished Megan McCafferty's Fourth Comings around three hours ago and, simply put, I love the book as much as I hate the "Massively Rude People Whose Egos Precede the Breadth of Their Perspectives", which is an utterly high degree. (I just can't shrug the thought of their existence. See post below.) I don't exactly enjoy chick-lit genres but this penetrates that boundary.
I know book talk isn't my kind of thing anymore, but it serves for a better purpose than wordy misanthropies (for today, at least).
POSTSCRIPT
This is my life outside sarcasm. I read books for survival.
I swore in my name I won't read John Green's story until I've read the twenty stories before it, but say hello to future guiltless page-skipping! That's the best thing about reading anthologies and the like. There would be absolutely no detail that would hurt to miss because there's only very little development in any of the stories.
But I have to let go of this book now. It's part of tomorrow's circulation.
Speaking of letting go, I just finished Megan McCafferty's Fourth Comings around three hours ago and, simply put, I love the book as much as I hate the "Massively Rude People Whose Egos Precede the Breadth of Their Perspectives", which is an utterly high degree. (I just can't shrug the thought of their existence. See post below.) I don't exactly enjoy chick-lit genres but this penetrates that boundary.
I know book talk isn't my kind of thing anymore, but it serves for a better purpose than wordy misanthropies (for today, at least).
POSTSCRIPT
This is my life outside sarcasm. I read books for survival.
