Sitting at the bus stop and waiting for Gatsby.

      There is no such thing as too many books but there is such a thing as too many bad books. It has been awhile since I wrote any reviews but that is because my life fell apart and more importantly I could not find one damn book worth reviewing. My life is still a hot mess but I did finally read some books that were worthy of my attention. Attention being that I fell into them and did not, could not resurface until the last and final page. I hesitate to go into great detail about the novels that sucked me into them merely because I have read so many excellent novels in such a very short time.
      I will however give a brief synopsis of my reading. First up was Jodi Picoult's LONE WOLF.
LONE WOLF does follow her usual trajectory of a vaguely Shakespearean love story/tragedy but somehow it all comes together as something slightly different from her normal writing. The morality tale is still evident but it is much more subtle this go round. Her patently obvious struggle with incendiary rulings re. "the right to die", "assisted suicide" and other medical practices are first and  foremost the backbone of this story but she does not let it get in the way of the narrative.
    Next up was SHANGHAI GIRLS by Lisa See. I have read several of this authors books despite my disconnect with the Chinese culture. She writes lyrically most of the time, drawing the reader into a story most of us would never understand. This book was no less lyrical but the plot was so much meatier, the characters so much more flawed and complicated that I honestly read the book cover to cover in one day. This is no love story nor is it a tragedy, it is a well researched tale of a war that did not become part of our history until the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor.
    Next on my list was GONE GIRL by Gillian Flynn. I knew/know it has been on the bestseller list for months but perhaps that is why I did not read it. I hesitate to read books that have been so overly hyped because basically I abhor the supercilious critiques of reviewers who obviously like to read their own words and are hoping for a book deal of their own or see visions of Gore Vidal and Truman Capote in their future. It pains me no end to read such reviews. But here's the thing, I liked the book, I really did. It deserves the accolades it has received and I enjoyed it. Enjoyment in reading is so much more important than the feeling that one has conquered a "great novel", say anything by James Joyce or    
Umberto Eco or even that bloviated author J. Franzen.
     Gillian Flynn wrote an entertaining story and in the end that is truly what matters. I would much rather read a book that entrances and transports me rather than a novel that has been "critically acclaimed" for all the wrong reasons.