I’m a reader.  It’s a habit I formed at an early age, and one I still enjoy.  Recently, I’ve been reading (or rereading in some cases) some of the “should read” books.  I’m currently wading through Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s 100 Years of Solitude and, perhaps contrary to the title of the post, I’m enjoying it.  The prose is beautiful, the descriptions vibrant, and the use of magical realism is nearly perfect.  But it is a bit of a struggle, and I’m not sure why.  With just under 100 pages to go, the book has become like the last round of a heavyweight bout.  When it’s finished I know I’ll appreciate the outcome, but really… can we wrap this up already?

Next on the list is Jhumpa Lahiri’s Unaccustomed Earth, then back to the “should read” list with a little Nabokov. 

Light summer reading at it’s finest.