Unlike my last read where I jumped into book 2 of a series without reading the first, I came fully prepared to Suzanne Collins’ “The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes.” I started the “Hunger Games” prequel with full knowledge of its existing world having read the original trilogy twice and having seen all of the movies.
Choosing a new book to read can be a process that takes different forms. One might have heard an interview with an author, written down the title and thus be laser-focused on that particular book. Alternatively, it could be a more random process of wandering a book store and letting some aspect of a book call out for attention. The latter can lead to interesting consequences.
In normal times, we would have baseball right now. It would be fun, a nice relaxing way to spend an afternoon or evening and not worry about the rest of the world for a while. For now, the best we have is the Washington Nationals replaying broadcasts of their playoff games and posting clips from big moments on their social media accounts.
Some books and their characters grab you in a way that makes you say, “Hey, that’s me! That’s my life! My experiences!” Others are a reminder that whatever proximity you may have to certain life experiences, whatever knowledge you already possess about underlying history, culture and issues, your job is to sit back and listen.
I’ve spent a lot of my professional life during the past six or seven years with a responsibility for keeping an eye on what is going on day-to-day in a few regions of the world, including the Middle East. That has meant sometimes a hyper focus on things like the Iran nuclear deal negotiations and tangentially related things such as the arrest and prolonged, unjustified detention of Washington Post Tehran Bureau Chief Jason Rezaian.
When times here on Earth are particularly stressful or weird, I often find some solace in the escapism of a good science fiction read. It’s an opportunity to escape reality by suspending some disbelief and letting the author paint an often futuristic world that at least someone thinks will turn out great.
Please stop reading this for a minute and go add Susan Orlean’s “The Library Book” to whatever system you use for keeping track of books you should read.
My third book of the year called out from the shelf of a bookstore with a title that would entice any avid reader: “The Little Paris Bookshop.”
I can see people having two very different reactions to the way Valeria Luiselli tells the story in “Faces in the Crowd.” I would understand those who would feel too unsettled by the experience of not exactly knowing 100 percent what is happening all the time. I’m in the other group. I loved it.
It’s not often I select a book without knowing anything about it, without having heard about it in a story or on the radio, without a recommendation from a friend. But thanks to a couple of books I had in mind being not available at my local library, I stumbled upon Dominic Smith’s “The Electric Hotel,” a work of historical fiction focused on a troupe of silent filmmakers.
