
Lost City Radio: Daniel's book is sweet. Read it and be proud of him.
The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter: An amazing Southern Gothic read from someone obnoxiously young.
The Exquisite: Diverting, but not as substantial as I had hoped.
The Raw Shark Texts: WTF? How was this such a hit last year -- or maybe that was just on this side of the ocean? Overhyped and disappointing.
The Norton Anthology of Short Fiction, 1978, Ed. R. V. Cassill: I'm about 450 pages into 1400, just going in alphabetical order by author. Two priceless gems unearthed so far: "The Egg" by Sherwood Anderson, which is hilarious, and "The Biggest Band" by R. V. Cassill himself, which is hilarious (who knew? Anyone read one of his books?).
The Collected Stories of Richard Yates: Going slow, maybe one a week, don't want it to end
The Assault by Harry Mulisch: Need to brush up on Dutch writers, and this was a hell of a start
Supernatural by Graham Hancock: Because I am a shark, and it is a bucket of chum
The Wapshot Chronicle: Abandoned this for the second time. How it is possible to be bored by and indifferent to something by Cheever, I don't know, but I was, I was, I was
The Possibility of an Island by Michel Houellebecq: I've talked about this before, but it bears repeating -- an honest, bruising book
The Name of the World: About a third the way in and liking it much better than Resuscitation
Poetry: A Pocket Anthology R. S. Gwynn ed.: Strictly a greatest hits collection. My bathroom book, but I'm not making much headway somehow. Too much roughage? And I didn't know Queen Elizabeth wrote, uh, poetry
The Interloper: Will be reviewing this for Please Don't, about which more to come.
P. S. There is a play about Paul Engle in the works.