On… some books Leave a reply Well darlings, I am writingwritingwriting (is it good? is it terrible? who can say, certainly not moi) and then at night I fall into bed with a book and bam, that’s it, game over. In case you’d like it, here’s a recent reading list. It’s not everything I’ve read – often when I dip my toe into recently released fiction I get very fucking bored and irritated immediately, like the grumpy old biddy that I am. The moment I read a female character who doesn’t feel real, I throw the book at the wall, so I throw books at walls frequently. I did not throw these books. Jane Fonda, My Life So Far. Fascinating and thoughtful and wise and unflinchingly, almost painfully honest and self-aware. I adore her. David Niven, The Moon’s A Balloon. It’s not often that an autobiography will make me cry – that’s one of the reasons I read them; they’re safe, and I am SUCH a weeper. But this book made me sob. Such a lovely man. Dreaming The Beatles, Rob Sheffield Absolutely delicious book. This made me – genuinely – dream about the Beatles. (FYI, John, every time, always. I could have made him nice.) The Beatles: The Biography, Bob Spitz After the dreaming book, I read about six more Beatles books, because I am nothing if not excessive. This was the best of them. Leonardo da Vinci, Walter Isaacson This wonderful book gives texture and life to a period and person I knew nothing about. So, so enjoyable. The Awkward Thoughts of W. Kamau Bell Funny, smart, thoughtful and interesting. I loved this book. Persuasion, Jane Austen My absolute favorite, I read it once a year. I have tried to think, for years, how to retell Persuasion in modern times, without making Anne super passive and annoying or putting up with so many idiots telling her what to do, when she should be jumping into the sack with beautiful Wentworth at the first opportunity… It’s a tough one. Give me time. More soon. What should I post about? Makeup? Makeup, right? Okay. I’ll write a makeup post next. Pinkie swear.