Time to get over to this blog to type ramblings about authors is hard enough for me to make, and I have zero babies. But, in keeping with the general vibe of posts over here, I'm back with another random Dollar Bookstore discovery.
I finished the latest book I wrote about over here, Richard Flanagan's Wanting. I found it good, but certainly not as outstanding as I had hoped, but that's my fault.
Saying something truthful, like "Well, it's not as a good as Gould's Book of Fish," is like complaining Pudd'nhead Wilson isn't as good as Huck Finn--how could it be? In both cases, one is good book by a genius, and the other is a masterpiece.
But, since Flanagan doesn't get the recognition he deserves, sometimes his books end up on the margins, and for me in downtown Long Beach, those margins are manifested in the physical world by our Dollar Bookstore.
So the other day I found another new book to get to once my Christmas reading has finished:
The premise is that a stripper wakes up one morning to see her face all over the news as a newly wanted terrorist. After reading Wanting, I am curious to see how Flanagan deals with a more modern narrative. The first and last chapters of Gould's... notwithstanding, I've only seen his prose in specific historical time periods, and this idea seems like it could have some legs.
Also, having read Wanting, I know where to set my expectations so I won't face disappointment.
