3. Blue Nights by Joan Didion
I read most of this on a plane, and I finished it before my stopover in Atlanta. It was very sad, but not in the way I expected it to be. It didn’t make me sad by empathizing with a mother who lost a daughter. It made me sad about the prospect of losing a daughter, an uncle, a father, a dog, or a neglected ficus plant. In short, it makes you pretty depressed about death in general. And also California. I suppose I should’ve expected that. Most people don’t read Joan Didion when they want an endorphins boost.
2. The Magicians by Lev Grossman
I approached this book with a heavy heart, as I haven’t read much fantasy since Harry Potter. I don’t think I was ready to open myself to anything wizard related again, and it took me a while to finally come around to this book. I kept seeing everything as Hogwarts, which turned me off at first, but eventually I decided that this was a different. I liked that Quentin was escaping Brooklyn and that there’s orgies and people who actually use bathrooms. Still, I’m not sure if I’ll read the sequel. Like Joan Didion, I’m still in a prolonged mourning.
1. The Secret History by Donna Tartt
It’s been a while since I’ve been as engrossed in a book as this one. This book is about a group of weird Classics student who hold ceremonies to Dionysus and occasionally murder people. I found myself attracted to Henry, who wears English suits, has a chipped tooth, and can speak eight languages, but then I remembered he is a murderer, emotionally distant, and possibly a psycho. And a fictional character. I suppose it’s a good book if you get that into it. I highly recommend it to anyone who suffers from insomnia.
