I will be going on a 2 and a half week vacation in a couple days, and I just picked out some books to read poolside. I've never taken a vacation for two consecutive weeks; at least not in the past fifteen years. So, I'm really looking forward to having the time to relax and read. I'll have a laptop with me, so I can still post on Retrospace - but it will be in a Margarita fueled haze, so forgive me if I sound incoherent in the next few weeks. Plus, I'll be in close quarters with my kids day and night, so there may be an added element of stress and tension in my writing.
Enough, about me and my freaking awesome vacation.... back to the books. When I returned home with a sack full of trashy paperbacks, my wife commented on my decline in taste over the past few years. You see, I was quite the book snob once upon a time. I never read anything but "quality literature" for years and years: Kafka, Steinbeck, Hawthorne, etc. What the hell happened to me? Here's a few of the books to read this vacation (plus
The Minnesota Connection shown above) ...
(click on images to enlarge)
How did I go from reading James Joyce to a paperback which reads "Half child, half woman... all bitch!" I think the best way I can describe it is to compare it to someone who loves quality beer. For years, he only will drink the finest brew and looks down at domestic brands like Miller and Budweiser..... till one day, he orders a glass of top quality ale at the local brewery. He receives it in a glass, and drinks it down, relishing every sip, commenting on the outstanding taste. Surely, only the choicest hops and barley were used in the preparation of this incredible glass of beer!
Then, the bartender apologizes for switching his order with another customer. He was actually drinking effing PBR! He'd been singing the praises and treasuring every swallow of Pabst Blue Ribbon!
Okay, the analogy took longer than I thought, but you get my point. Take away the label, the cover, the preconceived judgments, and you're left with just words on a page. In the end, it's just a matter of personal taste.