Yup, read my mind. I am missing Sydney quite a bit.
But that’s inevitable, so enough of that.
I’m reading my third book since leaving Sydney. The first was my flight book, A.S. Byatt’s Possession. A very good read; it’s a literary detective novel involving two romantic storylines, and I’m glad Byatt ended both lines well. Ambiguously and yet satisfactorily done (favorite line: “Oh no. Oh no. I love you. I think I’d rather I didn’t.” Priceless.) , though I think Byatt found a little too much fun than necessary in writing out Randolph Ash and Christabel LaMotte’s poetry. I don’t think she got the readers sympathetic enough to them that we would have a vested interest in reading through long lengths of their poetry, though Byatt’s imitation of Pre-raphaelite poetry was remarkably convincing.
And from there we go to the second book, Sophie Kinsella’s Shopaholic and Baby. Pure chick-lit laugh-out-loud fun, and I think it may be the last installment of the Shopaholic series…which I started reading when I was doing my undergraduate in literature and which I didn’t dare bring to university in fear of never being taken seriously ever again.
I’m reading Margaret Atwood’s Oryx and Crake at the moment.
Oh, and my brother got Harry Potter 7. Having lost interest in reading HP ages ago (stopped at Book 4), I flipped straight to the epilogue. I guess the end was a little predictable, but then it is a children’s book, and you can’t get too dystopian with that.