I’m now TWO MONTHS behind on book check-ins. So let’s start slow, with the nonfiction I read last month, because I decided for no reason that August was Novel Month.
I love Mike Doughty, but was mostly too young to ever get into Soul Coughing, though I got into their jazzy weirdness later. The Book of Drugs made me feel bad about that. If Mike Doughty’s memoir is to be believed, that band is full of awful people. Jeff Buckley is kind of a jerk, too. Also, heroin is still bad.
My best friend is a fluent French speaker, and spent almost a year in France. After I read Provence 1970 I texted to see what Provence was like. I was kind of hoping that it was overhyped. Unfortunately, she says it is not. This book made me want to go to France BAD, but I might need a time machine, too.
Dearie, because Julia Child continues to be one of my heroes. She supported Planned Parenthood on top of it all! I own a Julia Child cookbook now. I can cook kidneys whenever I feel like it.
I plucked The Floating Brothel from my best friend’s bathroom floor. Her husband wasn’t too sad to part with it. And rightly so. This book isn’t bad (it’s about a ship full of female convicts being transported from England to Australia in the late 18th century) but the title is definitely the most interesting part.
Dry just wants to remind you that Augusten Burroughs had a super fucked-up childhood, and inform you that he is an alcoholic, too. This sounds dismissive, but it ‘s interesting in a trainwreck way. Also, Augusten knows how to throw a good relapse. Good meaning “making for interesting reading,” that is.
I bought In My Skin for a former student who did something awesome for me. I have an unfortunate (?) tendency to read any book before I give it to someone, and consequently it’s still sitting on my bedroom floor. I did the same with this one, even though, why? I’d never heard of Brittney Griner, even though she purportedly is the world’s most famous female basketball player. Sports memoir = talent + hardship. Hopefully it’s going to go to a more appreciative home.
My best friend and I are both adamant that Nine Parts of Desire should be way more famous. Personally, I’m not sure if it isn’t because it’s pre-9/11, and/or because it’s about women. Also, it’s not a terribly flattering portrait of Islam. But it’s very thought-provoking, in a way I’m led to believe Ayan Hirsi Ali is.
Let’s all have marriages like Mariane and Daniel Pearl, although let’s have them end differently. I saw the film version of A Mighty Heart a long time ago–I think in China–and would like to rewatch it now that I’ve read the book. It’s fast-paced like a thriller, but also has a really beautiful love story. And you’ll cry A LOT.