A mom + daughter's adventure through the Gilmore Girl's reading list.
“They said they’d been shot at. Spat on. Refused entrance to the local diner. The movie theatre. The dry goods store. They said the signs in the windows were the same wherever they went: NO JAPS ALLOWED. Life was easier, they said, on this side of the fence.”
Read MoreDon’t read this book. Seriously.
Read MoreThis, by the way, is why we read books we don’t always enjoy. It’s why we read stories with protagonists whose choices we find objectionable or worse at times.
Read More“Scarlett had thrown herself on the bed and was sobbing at the top of her voice, sobbing for her lost youth and the pleasure of youth that were denied her, sobbing with the indignation and despair of a child who once could get anything she wanted by sobbing and now knows that sobbing can no longer help her.”
Read More"Then, focusing her gaze on Sidda, Caro said, ‘You’ve got Ya-Ya blood, Siddalee. Whether you like it or not. And sure, it’s tainted. But what the hell in life isn’t?’"
Read More“I always felt that if a man was impressive and well liked, that nothing…”
—Willy Loman (Death of a Salesman, Act 2)
“Jim, this is nice,” I says. “I wouldn’t want to be nowhere else but here. Pass me along another hunk of fish and some hot corn-bread.”
Re-reading this classic felt like that. Hanging out on the barge with Huck and Jim – eating corn bread. I didn’t want to be anywhere else. There are stories that shape us in a real, measurable way. The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn is one of those stories for me.
Read MoreNick Hornby’s novels tend read like a cross between a journal and a screen play. It’s no surprise that many have been turned into movies. They are chic lit but for men, too; bubble gum; beach reads. But they have this surprising depth of emotion and insight. I didn’t realize until recently that Hornby’s first book (Fever Pitch) is semi-autobiographical. (By the way, it has two film versions. The earlier one stars Colin Firth. You’re welcome.)
Read More“But I don’t want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin.”
“In fact”, said Mustapha Mond, “you’re claiming the right to be unhappy.”
“Alright then,” said the Savage defiantly, “I’m claiming the right to be unhappy.
I’m sitting on my back porch with a glass of red wine and a candle just after watching a beautiful sunset. So know that whatever comes next may be colored by the loveliness of this moment.
Babe was our first book club read. Torey and I read it in an afternoon over the Christmas holidays while sitting at opposite ends of the couch snuggled under blankets with Craig reading one of his new books across the room. Couldn’t ask for a more perfect beginning.
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