I’ve been laid up for a few days, so I’ve been perusing lots of “Year in Review”articles, including several lists of best or favorite books of the year. I devour those with interest, often thinking “Aw, I love that one too,” or “I intend to read that one soon.” Then I started thinking back on the books I read this year, and I couldn’t remember very many. What has happened to me? Reading is and has been one of the great pleasures of my life, and my ability to recall plots, characters, and entire paragraphs has been one of my geeky talents since second grade. Now I’m not sure what I read as recently as October. Stress?
Anyway, I just finished Don Wallace’s charming memoir, The French House, a book that makes me wish that I could hang out with the author and his wife and go surfing and have picnics and drink wine. Thinking of that memoir reminds me of the other memoir that I do recall reading this year: Consider the Oyster by M.F.K Fisher. I feel the same way about Fisher that I do about Wallace in that I would have loved to have dinner and lively conversation with her. Before Wallace, I finally read The Sheltering Sky by Paul Bowles simply because it had been on my shelf for years. I could not put it down once I began, but Continue reading “What did I read? I don’t recall…”