15 posts from this month. Books, thoughts, rants.
A pretty title and an Albanian author. That's all it took to pull me in. This slim novel hits you with raw stories of growing up under communist rule. Try being a girl in a place where women barely register as human. The machismo is suffocating. Vorpsi doesn't sugarcoat a damn thing.
Ernest tells his story: work, family, romance. Sounds ordinary, right? Except Ernest is a Pleistocene cave dweller. A pithécanthrope. One of our ancestors who decided climbing down from the tree was a good idea. The premise alone is genius. Lewis makes prehistory hilarious and weirdly relatable.
You probably know David Abiker from his media work. I don't always agree with him, but his humor lands. This book? It's about masculinity unraveling. The empire crumbling. Abiker writes with sharp wit about gender dynamics, and even when I want to argue, I'm entertained.
Three stories. Three men who might be the same guy: sentimental machos. Tough on the outside, complete pudding around women. The first is a hitman—cold, methodical, deadly. But he screwed up once, and that mistake haunts him. Sepulveda knows how to write flawed men who surprise you.
His Dark Materials, volume three. The summer saga concludes. This one's the darkest by far. It dragged for me—too much tension, too heavy. Lyra's been kidnapped by her mother and kept drugged. The stakes couldn't be higher. Pullman doesn't let up. Brutal and beautiful at once.
Classic British romantic quest. Two cousins, Fanny and Linda, spend their teenage years waiting for love to strike. They're convinced it'll change everything. Mitford writes this with such charm and wit—it's the kind of story English women authors seem to do effortlessly. Delightful and sharp.
I tackled a huge questionnaire today—the kind that makes you dig through your archives. Questions about books and life and how they intersect. The result? My existence told through book titles. It was ridiculous and fun and weirdly accurate. Reading defines me more than I thought.
March 1991. Thousands of Albanians storm boats headed for Italy, desperate to escape. Among them: Thesar Lumi. But at the last second, he climbs back down. Why? What makes this single, middle-aged man stay in a country everyone's fleeing? Kongoli explores failure, doubt, and survival.
His Dark Materials, book two. This one starts frustratingly—Pullman introduces a new hero, Will. He lives with his mentally unstable mother. He's scared and alone. Where's Lyra? Eventually they converge, and the story explodes. The world-building deepens. I'm hooked despite my initial annoyance.
Took a Sunday personality test. "What color is your soul?" Mine came back red: love, strength, energy, passion, courage, speed, leadership. Intense stuff. Not sure I buy it entirely, but red does feel right. It's aggressive. Bold. Unapologetic. Maybe that's me on good days.