I'm ready to be done with my current book. Know what I mean? I've got about 1/4 left and it's been good and all but okay, let's get on with it. I settled in for another couple chapters of "Three Cups of Tea: One man's mission to promote peace... one school at a time" and something revolutionary - down right CRAZY occurred to me.
The last 6 books I have read have been non-fiction.
WHAT is going on here?
I've always struggled with non-fiction. I'm guessing it's either my mild ADD or my wild romanticism for life, but I'm a fiction girl. Oh, there are a few exceptions. Paula by Isabel Allende... Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver... and Freakonomics by Steven Leavitt. But as I count my most recent reads, it covers the dewy decimal system quite nicely.
The Happiness Hypothesis by Jonathan Haidt.
Paulines by Pauline Tabor, by which was about a notorious brothel in Bowling Green, KY and for a few days I wanted nothing more that to be a Madam.
The Year of Living Biblically by A.J. Abrams
The Greatest Generation by Tom Brokaw. Okay, this was kind of a cheat for me. It was the One Book, One Lexington book and I only read half. It was okay, but I can only read so many testimonials about WWII in one sitting. I'll finish it. Just not right now.
Blink by Malcom Gladwell
and now, Three Cups of Tea.
Sitting on my end table are three books that I really want to read. Eat Pray Love, No Country for Old Men, and In Defense of Food.
Two of three are non-fiction. Goodness gracious me... I don't know why this strikes me as it does, but I think it's so interesting to watch my tastes change and develop. I suppose it's nothing new, really. I went from Sally J. Friedman to Holden Caulfield to Sal Paradise to Alobar and Kudra to... real life?