I love making lists. Who doesn't love making lists? I love making overly ambitious, lengthy lists just so I can fantasize about the delicious feeling of smugness I'd be overcome with if I could tick even half of the tick boxes hand drawn next to every item on my list. The lovely thing about lists, though, is that just writing them down feels like an achievement; a declaration of intent.
Thus, here is my achievement of today, a picture of all the books I'd like to read this summer:
From top to bottom:
James Joyce - Portrait of the Artist as Young Man. Me Mam's favourite book. Figured I'd better indulge her. Plus visions of grey Dublin might keep me cool in the oppressive summer heat. Maybe?
Kurt Vonnegut - Slaughterhouse Five. One of me Da's favourite books, apparently. He was way progressive.
Nick Cave - And the Ass Saw the Angel. Bought this after seeing the very wonderful Nick Cave exhibition at the National Library. I'm a big fan of his music, and he's an amazing lyricist, so it follows that this should be good, right? Plus, not just anything gets defined as a Penguin modern classic. I also really want to read his new book The Death of Bunny Munroe. It pretty much has the best premise ever.
Salman Rushdie - Midnight's Children. I loved Shalmilar the Clown. Loved it. But have been too scared off reading this book by others who've attempted it. Still, it's the Booker of Bookers. I think I can handle it. Magical realism is also my new favourite genre.
Helen Garner - The Children's Bach. For my 'Australian' themed book club rotation. I thought Monkey Grip was brilliant and gritty and beautiful, and this has far more universal acclaim and is exquisitely short.
Murakami - Dance Dance Dance and Hard Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World. I went on a bit of a Murakami binge a few years back before I went to Japan, but never got round to reading these two. After Vanessa's last post I figured I aught to give them a go.
Richard Yates - Revolutionary Road. I talk about this as if I've read it, making references to my life, to 'buying into the lie', etc. But I haven't. I haven't even seen the movie. Probably should do something about that.
Gerald Durrel - The Talking Package. He's pretty much the most delightful writer of all time, and after the aforementioned, I might be in need of some delight.
Andrew McGahan - Wonders of a Godless World. Also for the Australian book club rotation. Am reading this at the moment. It's pretty unlike anything I've read before, almost like a fantasy book for children in its simplistic use of language but much much darker. Intriguing.
Not even pictured is Julia Child's My Life in Paris (sounds like the perfect holiday reading, no?) and Oscar and Lucinda by Peter Carey, also for book club.
What's on your list, poppets?