Can I confess that I'm really not sure why this book is on my list?
I'd remove it, but it's also part of the books I listed for the 2011 To-Be-Read Challenge, so I'm stuck with it. I think I must have been watching Oprah one day--something I haven't done in a while--and she must have been waxing eloquent about this book, and I must have been caught up in the excitement because something someone said made it sound like a book I just had to read. So I probably hopped right over to my favorite online bookstore and placed an order.
That's the best thing and the worst thing about being able to shop from home. Impulses acted upon within 30 seconds. No longer do we have to wait the whole 30 minutes it might take to slip into shoes, find the car keys, and drive across town. We can act on that urge immediately!
Anyway, for whatever reason, the book is on my bookshelf and in my TBR stack, and listed as #11 in the challenge, so I'll make a valiant effort to read it.
It's not that I have anything against literary fiction. I actually like a lot of literary books. I'm not a genre snob or a literary snob or a reverse-literary snob. I don't turn up my nose at your choices, and I'd really like it if you didn't turn up your nose at mine. But even if you do, so what? You don't have to like the books I like for me to feel validated. I'm fine with it.
My hesitation comes strictly because of the time period. I'm not a fan of brown books, or brown movies -- not to be confused with black & white, which I adore. Brown means anything set during the depression, the dark ages, or or after the apocalypse. Not a fan. That doesn't mean I refuse to read books or watch movies set during those times. They're just not my favorite times to read about. And this book is set in the 1930s, which puts it on my "would probably rather avoid" list.
On the other hand, it does deal with subject I find fascinating, which is probably what made me whip out my debit card in the first place.
I'd remove it, but it's also part of the books I listed for the 2011 To-Be-Read Challenge, so I'm stuck with it. I think I must have been watching Oprah one day--something I haven't done in a while--and she must have been waxing eloquent about this book, and I must have been caught up in the excitement because something someone said made it sound like a book I just had to read. So I probably hopped right over to my favorite online bookstore and placed an order.
That's the best thing and the worst thing about being able to shop from home. Impulses acted upon within 30 seconds. No longer do we have to wait the whole 30 minutes it might take to slip into shoes, find the car keys, and drive across town. We can act on that urge immediately!
Anyway, for whatever reason, the book is on my bookshelf and in my TBR stack, and listed as #11 in the challenge, so I'll make a valiant effort to read it.
It's not that I have anything against literary fiction. I actually like a lot of literary books. I'm not a genre snob or a literary snob or a reverse-literary snob. I don't turn up my nose at your choices, and I'd really like it if you didn't turn up your nose at mine. But even if you do, so what? You don't have to like the books I like for me to feel validated. I'm fine with it.
My hesitation comes strictly because of the time period. I'm not a fan of brown books, or brown movies -- not to be confused with black & white, which I adore. Brown means anything set during the depression, the dark ages, or or after the apocalypse. Not a fan. That doesn't mean I refuse to read books or watch movies set during those times. They're just not my favorite times to read about. And this book is set in the 1930s, which puts it on my "would probably rather avoid" list.
On the other hand, it does deal with subject I find fascinating, which is probably what made me whip out my debit card in the first place.
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