Summer reading, or the lack thereof Some bloggers, like Whisky, have already mapped out their summer reading plans. Or re-reading, in Whisky's case. (He's planning to re-read Dashiell Hammett, an author whose works I must confess I've never read. But I have read Mickey Spillane and Whisky hasn't, so somehow things are square between us.)
The only stuff I've been reading lately are uncorrected proofs of soon-to-be-released books by Christian publishers that are being sent to me by a PR firm in Chicago. I haven't read any real fiction in ages. Unless you count The Da Vinci Code, which I read two summers ago.
The other day I was in a Border's, which had a selection of recent paperbacks, both fiction and non-fiction, stacked on a table marked "three for the price of two." I almost bought Life of Pi and two non-fiction books -- Anne Lamott's Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith and Bob Dylan's Chronicles: Volume 1 -- but figured they'd only gather dust on the bookshelf most of the summer.