I read a lot on vacation

It was what I did when I wasn't writing (which means it was pretty much the perfect fucking vacation). I have mostly forgotten everything but my very basic reactions to these books (Yay! Boo! What?) but I like to note them down so later, when I forget everything including the names of my grandchildren and what the things on the ends of my legs are called, I can look back fondly on my blog and go "Blargle!" which my nurse will interpret as a cry for more oatmeal. Anyway. See below.

Eat Pray Love

Elizabeth Gilbert

Now, I am very pleased that Elizabeth Gilbert went looking for herself, and also that she not only found herself, but a very nice fellow and a brand new life of global wandering. I am also pleased that she writes eloquently of her experiences, both physical and spiritual. But I am also pleased to roll my eyes at her when she starts wandering off into her tee hee, I am so wacky and fucked up but everyone loves me because I am so beautiful and lovable! tangents. Or maybe I am jealous of her trip. Except for how I hate to travel, mostly. It was still a lovely read, though I am puzzled by the Amazon reviewers who recommend reading this book with a pen and paper, in order to take notes. Come on, people.

Devilish

Maureen Johnson

This is a young-adult novel about devils and cupcakes and selling your soul. It was surprisingly sophisticated for a YA book, and a little bit ghoulish. Though that could not be surprising at all, considering the fact that I haven't read a YA book since I tossed my embarrassingly comprehensive Sweet Valley High collection.

Under My Roof

Nick Mamatas

This was a funny, fast satire of the political climate. The speed and slickness of the story, which still kept its depth and drama, was impressive and fun. I wish there had been a garden gnome on the cover.

Rose of No Man's Land

Michelle Tea

I hated Rent Girl a lot, though I did admire Michelle Tea for going there, for the most part. And she does it again, just going there and going for it – the most fucked-up, beautiful, outrageous and awful thing that can happen, that is what happens. This is a gonzo kind of fictional memoir of a teenage kid's messed up home life and fucked-up first love, told in an amazing poetry-tough voice that is always spot-on. It is prickly and sad and there's a scene in a tattoo shop that just totally kills me, but the ending is perfect. I almost forgive Tea for Rent Girl.

A Moveable Feast

Ernest Hemingway

I had no idea the man was so funny. He is hilarious and heartbreaking, and his prose is all muscular and manly, and his story is funny and lovely and makes you wish you were a writer in Paris. Why the fuck am I not a writer in Paris, living on pennies a day? The ending is sad and perfect.

We Have Always Lived in the Castle

Shirley Jackson

This is a beautiful remastered (remastered?) edition, with an introduction by Jonathan Lethem (i.e., the man I loved right up until the point where I realized Fortress of Solitude was a giant steaming pile of tofu). The stuff inside the fancy new cover, though, is amazing. It is an eerie, gripping, nightmarish book with one of the most brilliant unreliable narrators I've ever read – subtle and strange, and once you realize something is going on, totally gripping. I guessed at the ending, but I wanted to keep reading all the way to the end, and I was very sad when it was over. And also I am sad that Shirley Jackson is dead.