Well, I read some books in September. Not nearly as many as August, but I’d like to think that my lack of reading has to do with an upswing in my Dallas social life. That, or I’ve been watching too much New Girl on Netflix. Probably a combination of the two.
Anyhow, here’s what I read in September:
Save the Date by Mary Kay Andrews
” ‘You could walk me back over to the van,’ she offered. ‘I’m no fraidycat, but I definitely don’t like walking in these dark downtown lanes at night.’
‘Good thinking,’ he said. ‘You can never tell what kinds of lowlifes are wandering around down here on a Friday night.’
As they moved down the sidewalk, she hesitated, but then reached over and tucked her hand through his arm. ‘For safety,’ she said gravely, ‘because you really never can tell.’ “
Alright, I’m well aware that Mary Kay Andrew’s biggest fans are probably not 25 year old millennials, but I get such a kick out of her books! They are always light-hearted and fun, and sometimes you just need a guaranteed happy ending, am I right? (And for the record, that “grab a guy’s hand and blame it on safety” move is brilliant, and I plan on using it at some point in my life.)
Modern Romance by Aziz Ansari
“On our subreddit we were told a story about a man who was dating a spectacular woman but eventually broke up with her. He said it went downhill once he texted her asking if she had heard about a party at a mutual friend’s house. Her response was ‘Hoo?’ Not ‘Who,’ but ‘Hoo.’ He kept trying to force the word ‘who’ into conversation to make sure this beautiful woman could spell a simple three-letter word. Every time, she spelled it ‘hoo.’ He said it ruined everything. (Note: We did confirm that this was a woman and not an owl.)”
It is no secret that I love and adore
Tom Haverford Aziz Ansari. So naturally, I was thrilled when he wrote Modern Romance. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but assumed it would fall into the humorous autobiography genre, a la Is Everyone Hanging out Without Me? and Bossypants. While it was seriously funny, it was less autobiographical and more dissertation-esque. Seriously, it is one big research paper—but, it is written with all the charm, wit, and laughs that one would expect from ol’ Tommy boy. Though there were some parts toward the end that I skimmed due to content, I found this read to be enjoyable and actually quite informative (Mr. Ansari is all about the stats, hoo knew?).
The Husband’s Secret by Liane Moriarty
“When she had first held Jacob in her arms and pressed her lips to his tender, fragile scalp, it had felt as though she were being brought back to life, like a wilting plant being watered. His new-baby scent had filled her lungs with oxygen. She’d actually felt her spine straighten, as if someone had finally released her from a heavy weight she’d been forced to carry for years. When she’d walked out into the hospital parking lot, she could see color seeping back into the world.”
In my 25 years of life, I’ve only seen Desperate Housewives one time (that was plenty). And for the life of me, I can’t remember anything about that episode. But, when reading through The Husband’s Secret, I kept having the feeling that the plot of the book and the plot of that one episode of Desperate Housewives were pretty similar. Basically, both are soap operas tangled in secrets. The book follows the lives of three Australian women, all of whom are affected by one man’s secret. The actual secret is not discovered until roughly 160 pages in, but the reader should be able to figure it out fairly early on in the book. I will say, the ending left things mildly unresolved, which was likely a good move on Ms. Moriarty’s part. I think anytime a reader is left wondering rather than simply confused, a writer has done a good job. And at the end of this novel, I was left wondering. Overall, I liked The Husband’s Secret more than my other Liane Moriarty experience (What Alice Forgot), but I think this author writes for a different audience than myself (read: for those who enjoy Desperate Housewives).
That’s it, folks. Well actually, I did read about half of Jessica Knoll’s Luckiest Girl Alive, but I had to stop, because frankly, it was really trashy. I had high hopes for that novel because the ever-adorable Reese Witherspoon had recommended it, but ultimately, it just wasn’t my cup of tea.
For the month of October, I’m broadening my horizons a bit and reading my first horror novel. I’m currently about half-way through the book, and it honestly hasn’t seemed too scary—which is saying a lot because I’m an absolute wimp. But, I do feel like the key to a good horror novel is probably a haunting ending (just a guess), so maybe the scary’s comin’ for me.
Currently listening to “Elastic Heart – Piano Version” and “California Dreamin'” by Sia