Over the weekend I finished Jim Crace's "The Pesthouse," which was stuffed full of gorgeous and burnished iambs. Rolling his words around in my mouth felt like casting spells, beckoning the characters by their ectoplasmic ears and summoning them into being. If you read one postapocalyptic "eastern Western" paperback this year, make it this one. After all, you'll get to watch the other one soon enough.
I'm in the middle of Paul Beatty's "Slumberland," and I can't stop laughing and feeling gratitude.
I'm carrying around Helen Oyeyemi's "The Opposite House." After that? I think I should try on Junot Díaz's "The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao" and Fareed Zakaria's "The Post-American World."
I'm not fooled by the partners she's got, I finished "Open" by Jenny Block. It was more enjoyable than challenging; I may revisit it after I make time for Tristan Taormino's "Opening Up."
The last two I read were "The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao" (run, do not walk to read it) and "The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay". Now I'm reading ZZ Packer's "Drinking Coffee Elsewhere."