It’s that time of the month again. (I can’t resist saying stuff like that. I’m a 14 year old boy.) It’s that time to rehash the books I read this month.
Though it’s the last book I read this month, we’ll begin with it. I Am Not Myself These Days by Josh Kilmer-Purcell. I’ve read this one before and always enjoy it. Not that it’s a particularly happy book, as it’s a memoir about the author’s past as an alcoholic drag queen. Working in an ad agency by day, walking around with goldfish in clear plastic boobs by night. The author is a good writer. He tells everything with humor, none of that feel-sorry-for-me stuff. I recommend.
Next we have Salting Roses by Lorelle Marinello. This is a Southern fiction novel. I have problems with that genre, as a lot of it is just ridiculous. (I’m looking at you, Saving CeeCee Honeycutt.) This book is about Gracie, a women whose mother left her on a doorstep in a coal bucket. As an adult, life is predictable but she’s happy. Until a man shows up and tells her who she really is, the heir to a massive Yankee fortune.
It’s a light read. There’s not much to distinguish it from others in the genre, as this book too has some typecast characters. Wise old men and interfering aunts and Yankees. But if you’re looking for a Southern fiction novel that isn’t too ridiculous, this one fits the bill.
And then we have The Storied Life of AJ Fikry by Gabrielle Zevin. Oh dear. (Please imagine the world’s deepest long-suffering sigh right about…now.) This book had me. It had me, right up until it didn’t. This book is about AJ, a widowed man that owns a small bookstore. A woman abandons her child in the store and he adopts her. Happy! Makes sense! And then the author drops a little hint, a little foreshadowing, and I said DON’T YOU DARE.
But of course she did. *SPOILER ALERT* Why, for the love of all that is holy, do authors kill off their main characters for no good goddamn reason? It’s lazy. It’s sloppy. It’s…crap, I don’t know where the rest of this book is going, now that the main character is, heaven forbid, happy.
Ahem. I do not recommend. Stay far, far away.
And that’s what I read in June. Go forth and crack open a book. (Just not that last one.)