
“Dirty” books. “Trashy” novels. “Fluffy” ways to spend your time. The more I get into this crazy world of being an author (and an author with a loudly-announced love of classic books), the more book shame I see all around me. There seems to be a barely-articulated expectation that as
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Thanks for all of your comments and visits over the last few days! Remember, all comments this week are entered to win a copy of Molly Haskell’s Frankly My Dear: Gone With the Wind Revisited. Just comment on a blog post this week to win…and watch for a special bonus
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When people hear about the books in my book about books, they go one way or the other. Either they’re neutral/excited, or their faces fall. ”I haven’t read all of those,” they say, crestfallen. Or they read the book and say “To my shame, I’d never read ____________. “ As
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I was laying in bed this morning after my first fully restful sleep in a while and thinking about literary duos. Not necessarily titular (though Betsy-Tacy is not to be ignored), but those great pairings that make my favorite books so juicy to read. You know…Scarlett and Melanie, or Marianne
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(Not to be confused with Sweatin’ to the Oldies!) I’m in Writing Mode, which for my long-suffering boyfriend means having to deal with someone who is clumsier, more preoccupied, and spacier than ever. But spewing out the world’s most terrible first draft isn’t always (or ever) a cakewalk, and I
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