Summer & Books <3


So, hopefully we’ll be back to working the blog more regularly again. For my part, I might be having at least a little more free time ahead, and summer is about to wave goodbye. Thankfully. Though it’s still too hot.

Anyway, for lack of better topics to return with, I’ll go over some books I’ve read this summer? Yeah, let’s do that. I have been writing too though. Just not as much, seeing as I’m mainly focusing on editing and working up to a rewrite for a final draft of AA. For reasons unknown I began writing a sci-fi piece concerning androids in the apocalypse.


Well, I got roughtly one third into Wolves of the Calla, the fifth book in the Dark Tower series. Then I stopped. I don’t know, it just didn’t hold my interest that much. It’s weird, I read that usually it’s the fourth book that breaks readers. And while that had a slow start, I ended up loving it. (although, it had this really lackluster climax for the baddies where I thought to myself ‘I can do better than this’, which is a good thought to have; people aren’t perfect, and if you work hard, you can match the giants). I’ll finish it some day though. The journey to the Tower does indeed have to reach its conclusion.

On the topic of the Dark Tower, I made up my mind that I wouldn’t waste money on the film, namely because it looks terrible and I was firmly sure it would be terrible from the get-go. And it’s apparently as terrible as I thought. So that’s not a sale for me. But, then I got free tickets to a preview screening, so I guess I’ll check it out then. Though, ‘preview screening’ is a bit of a stretch here. It’s on the 15th, way over a week after the film has been out. Yeah, three days before the official premiere in Norway, but still…

Phoebe got me reading a couple of Gaiman books I hadn’t read. (I’ve only read American Gods, so). The Ocean at the end of the Lane was really good. It’s got this great, warm fairytale aspect to it. It’s something Gaiman seems to handle extremely well. I’m also halfway through The Graveyard Book, which is equally good.

She’s promised to read a book of mine though, if I read one of hers, but I don’t know, if I read two instead of one, it might be more fair tho not really, cause I want her reading my second fave book ever: House of Leaves. Which is a tome. And a mindfuck. I think she was gonna start Ready Player One tho, which is my third fave book, so that’s easier.

A book I’ve been waiting patiently for is Eddie Izzard’s book: Believe Me: A Memoir of Love, Death, and Jazz Chickens. Izzard is pretty much my favorite person on the planet, save maybe (??) for Phoebe now, and his comedy actually got me through a lot of the rough spots in my life. And here he is, in all his book glory. Overall I loved it. You get everything you’d want. His upbringing, sexuality, struggles, his success, all of it. I would maybe have wanted more from his post-breakout stardom, but that’s okay. He can do more books.

I think the most significant thing to take away from this memoir is the fact that the hardest thing Mr. Izzard has gone through in his life is not any of the massive, stomach-churning arenas he’s filled to the brim, or the body-breaking physical endurance he went through during his marathons. Rather, the hardest thing he ever did was the first time he walked out the front door of the apartment he shared with a few other men, back in the 80s, for the first time with the guts to try express himself the way he felt: in women’s clothing.

Look at that beautiful specimen of a person, subtly wearing nails with the EU flag on them, all sneaky deaky.

Also, as you can see from the above picture, I got the new, full release of Beren and Luthien, by J.R.R. Tolkien, put together by his grumpy son. I really like this though, and I can’t wait to read it. The Beren and Luthien story, and how it backgrounds into Tolkien’s own life with his wife makes me feel all weird inside, like the cuteness is too adorbs and it’s stealing my lifeforce somehow.

And, at the moment I’ve finally gotten around to reading Cormac McCarthy’s Blood Meridian. It’s one I’ve had on the shelf on my writing desk for probably close to two years? It’s about time. The thing is, I really love McCarthy’s storytelling, but hate the way he writes. I loved The Road when I first read it, which has the same, but there’s very little dialogue in it, so it’s fine. Then I tried No Country for Old Men, and I couldn’t get through it. Here again though, with Blood Meridian, there’s little dialogue, and he doesn’t drone on without a hint of punctuation, so I’m really liking it.

I should stop, really. I feel like I’ve droned on now. Of these books I’d really recommend Eddie’s book though. For one, it does give you the spirit to hang in there and chase your dreams, which is important for me, and secondly, you feel good reading this. It’s a really wild tale of a man who really had the world against him, but he somehow succeded and now fills Wembley and tours the world in who knows how many languages.

Alright then, now to see how many days go by before I’ll write here again. Nah, we’ll be rocking this now.

Of course, I needed the signed edition, cause I’m an Eddie hoe


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