Most of my novel reading is crime / psychological thrillers, with a hefty dose of chick lit, plus what I guess you’d call drama / literature thrown in. However I think it’s good to read a range of books, including some from outside your comfort zone. I also try to vary my books by country and continent, making sure to read things that are outside of my own personal experience.
Sometimes this works really well and I find new books to love. Sometimes it works less well and I find myself trying very hard to like a book that just doesn’t speak to me. Read more
I don’t watch many films these days. I don’t like going to the cinema; before this year, I think the last time I went was to see X+Y when it came out in 2014.
Jetlag has meant I haven’t been sleeping especially well recently, so last Friday I decided to take myself to the cinema at 10pm since I wasn’t going to be falling asleep before about 3 anyway. I went to see Hereditary, because it’d been praised as genuinely creepy by film critics. I’m not a fan of jump scares because I don’t find them scary, but genuine creepiness can be quite fun. I loved The Orphanage, for example, because the ending was so banal that you could see the events of the film unfolding in your own life.
Endings are so important, aren’t they? They can make or break an entire movie. Unfortunately the ending of Hereditary broke it. Read more
“I’ll just read a chapter or two before I go to sleep” – every bookworm who’s ever missed their bedtime and woken up grumpy the next morning.
Also me, just before I started reading this book. And then finished it an hour or so later. And then woke up tired the next day.
Seriously, bookworms. Will we never learn? Read more
I finally have my brain fully back! It’s been switching on and off over the past year based on the number and strength of pills I’ve been on at any given time. So more like a dimmer switch than a straight on/off affair. However, as of yesterday I am off aaaaallll the meds. Let’s see how this goes.
The most exciting thing about this, of course, is that I can read books again. And not just novels and things that require zero brain power, but real books. Big books. Thick philosophical books. (I know novels can be all those things too, but boy have I missed philosophy.)
Here’s what I read this week.
“It starts with a suicide and ends with a death…”
That was the line that drew me in, morbid crime novel aficionado that I am.
But Girls on Fire isn’t any ordinary crime novel.
There was something about it that jumped out at me. I’d told myself I wasn’t going to buy any more books for a while, because my to-read pile (well, my three to-read piles, if we’re being accurate) is really rather large.
But the title – beside myself, all in lower-case font – and the bright blue cover, and the little stick person on the side, intrigued me.
Oh well, I thought, why not?
And I got home, and I was tired because things are tiring at the moment, and I ran a bath, and I thought, Maybe I’ll read the nice new book instead of the forensics book that’s next on my list.
So I did. And it was Good.
Last week’s reading list went like this