like a cat on a hot tin roof

I am currently reading two books: The Wars of the Roses, by Alison Weir, and Anno Dracula, by Kim Newman. I finally finished A Storm of Swords a couple days ago (AND I HAVE SO MANY SANSA FEELS AFTER THAT LAST CHAPTER AND THE EPILOGUE JFC MY HEART) but I think I’m going to hold off on AFFC for a while because I’m in no hurry at all to finish what has been published of this series and then have to potentially wait like four years for the next book.

Christina Garcia! Her writing is so lyrical. I guess she’s sort of a magical realist, but because her writing is set in the present day, it seems less fantastical and more poetic, somehow. I just love her style, and as much of her work centers around the conflict between the generations of Cuban-American immigrants, it hits pretty close to home and she gets everything so right. 

It wasn’t the first book I read on my own, but I remember getting in trouble in first grade because I was reading 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea under my desk during Spanish class. Yep. This was far from the last time I got in trouble for reading at my desk in another class. 

My tenth grade Geometry teacher gave me a C in conduct for reading in his class. 

I really don’t have a favorite (or least favorite) genre. I will not turn something down based on genre alone. At the moment, my genre of choice is probably SanSan fanfic.

I’m pretty into true crime stuff, but I don’t read them too often because one serial killer book is enough to keep me awake at night for months. I also really like to read about art and history (stuff like this and this) and political biographies, although I haven’t read one I’ve really liked in ages.

I had a phase (circa middle school) where I was really obsessed with Star Wars and I read a bunch of the post-original trilogy novels. Like, a lot them. Don’t read those, okay? Not only are they not that great,) but they really put the characters you love through the emotional ringer and kill a bunch of people and are just generally upsetting without a lot of payoff.

As I’m sure you’re all well-aware by now, it’s Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials. I think I first read The Golden Compass when I was like nine? I didn’t even realize it was part of a series until years later when I came across The Subtle Knife. I still reread them every couple years. 

This distinction goes to two books I really loved when I was around fourteen: The Lovely Bones and White Oleander. Something about these two books really struck me and stayed with me and I just LOVED them. (And I thought I was reading really cool, intelligent, high-brow stuff, because that’s the kind of obnoxious fourteen year old I was.) 

I still kind of love both these books, just because I loved them SO much when I was younger, but I can recognize now that neither of them are nearly as interesting or life-changing as I originally thought. White Oleander does hold up pretty well, though. Ingrid Magnussen is a really intriguing character.

The Shining probably isn’t actually the most disturbing thing I’ve ever read, but somehow, certain lines and images from that book have permanently seared themselves into my memory and immediately trigger FEAR whenever I’m reminded of them. Particularly the HEDGE ANIMALS. And the WASPS. And that fucking elevator going up and down with the party goers and the MASKS.

My absolute favorite place to read is in bed or on the sofa, in my pajamas and socks, and under several blankets, with a beverage nearby. I can’t write/study without music on, but I like to do my fun reading in silence.