My first book read in my new place was My Salinger Year (lots of mys in there, so it all works, yeah?). This was a good choice to get back into the reading groove. I hadn’t picked up a book in two weeks (I know! I think that’s a record), and this was just light enough that it didn’t require too much concentration, yet meaty enough that I felt like I actually read something. (Although what reading a book and not reading it actually looks like I don’t know.)
Despite the fact that I loathed The Catcher in the Rye (I was neither an angsty teen, nor did I read it as a teen…both reasons why I think the book was a dismal failure for me), this was still entertaining. Rakoff tells of her year immediately following the demise of her master’s degree…a year in which she takes a low, low, low paying job as an assistant to a literary agent, takes up with a socialist wanna-be author (or maybe he was a wanna-be socialist author…whatever…he was a bit of a jerk), and tries to find her way. And okay, so she’s a wee bit angsty, but not too bad. I spent most of the book waiting for her to move on from it all, while being entertained by the brief appearances of Salinger via shouted phone calls.
Aaaaand, that’s pretty much all I have to say about it. I enjoyed it, but I’m not shouting my love from the rooftops.
Obviously, I still need to find my blogging groove.