Or, what I’m reading. I was going to start aforementioned Kaiju book, since John was nice enough to risk Covid on his book tour and come to my town and sign it. But I decided to listen to How Luck Happens instead. It’s really making me think.
In fiction, I’m tackling (hah, like it’s a chore. It’s no chore.) The Annual Migration of Clouds, by Premee Mohamed. Premee is one of those writers who’s funny and cute and her fiction is horrifying and has feral hogs and sentient spores.
Look, folks, this is what happens when you tell little girls they’re cute too much. They grow up and write shit that isn’t cute at all. Literature is better for it, but you might be surprised, when you made this happen.
No, not YOU dear reader, because I doubt those well-meaning mountain men–who called me cute and said i couldn’t carry heavy thing–are reading this.
I’m looking forward to staring the Kaiju book, and The Club, a new thriller that apparently takes the Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous and throws some murder in. And since a certain super-rich/famous woman suggested that women could make it in business if we were just more willing to work hard, I could use some violent escapism.
Horizon: Forbidden West continues. We’re doing a big Goldilocks thing in this house- my husband is almost done with the game, and I’m about halfway through, and our kid just started it. I find the increased difficulty annoying-everything is harder, including how many arrows it takes to take down a human or machine, and saying they’ve nerfed the pouch space (ie number of arrows you can carry) is putting it mildly.