In retrospect, the contrast between Keith Richards’ Life and the book I chose to read after it couldn’t be more amusing. I’d say it confirms my eclectic range! From Richards’ fat juicy romp of an ode…
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I’m planning to write a post responding to Hope’s question (at this post) about how I found time to read while raising my children, and how I continue to structure pockets of reading time into…
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Isn’t that a sumptuously melancholy title? So indulgent . . . And yet the novel doesn’t wallow in melancholy nor nostalgia, rather examining the past, remembering a bright adolescent Jewish lesbian girl’s coming-of-age in 1970s…
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Almost a month since I’ve written, and less than a week ’til the end of the year round-up. So, I’m obviously sticking with the short and sweet (or quick and dirty?!) reviews. . . Robert…
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The only reason I’m not further behind (right now only about four titles, I think) in this reading log is that I’m not finding much more time to read than I am to write. But…
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