A Year in Reading: Catherine Lacey
This is the first year I kept an almost accurate list of what I read and, as I look over it now, I am surprised at the number of books I read and hated. Is it sacrosanct to so gleefully abandon a bad book in an airport or on a public bench? I will not mention them here because I am incapable of speaking briefly on the subject of bad books. Instead, here are a few of the memorably good ones.
Winter in Chicago—I read by hunched over my kitchen table one night, wholly absorbed. An account of the year, ‘s son, is an ideal memoir. I tried to recommend it to my friend Kathleen but it turns out she had been the one to recommend it to me!
