This isn’t going as fast as I thought it would. I only read 4.5 inches on this go around, probably because I moved into an unheated apartment in Bushwick and forgot how to read. I moved into an unheated apartment Bushwick and taught myself to hang curtains and take the J train and sue my landlord but I guess I forgot how to read.
Those four beautiful paperbacks at the bottom are the Summer 2012 galleys from Hogarth—Jay Kang’s The Dead Do Not Improve, Anouk Markovits’s I Am Forbidden, Joydeep Roy-Bhattacharya’s The Watch and Stephanie Reents’ The Kissing List—each amazing in its own way and books I am lucky to get to work with.
Joan Didion’s Blue Nights doesn’t amount to much more than Sad but those Carson McCullers short stories, particularly The Ballad of the Sad Cafe, are so smart you’ll take the train back uptown to retrieve them when you leave them at work.
The pile.
