A Century of Books. The List.

 

I'm very excited about a new list I'm working on -- as of 20 minutes ago. I follow a number of book blogs, including this one, which led me to see the blogger's list entitled A Century of Books. She got the idea from this blog. I'm going to see how many years, from 1900 to 1999, I can fill in with the name of a book that I read that was published in that year. (I can word that differently, and I probably will later.) Considering that I've read quite a few George Orwell and Willa Cather and Edith Wharton novels I hope to fill in a lot of dates from the 20s and 30s. I feel sure I'll have a book to list for every year after about 1970, which is when I was out of school and could read whatever I wanted.

 

I've got a list of books read since 1984, the year my second child was born. Can't wait to get home tonight from my Dinner Group so I can fill in the blanks. (The Dinner Group is what I now call The Book Group that I joined last January and isn't really a book group at all. It's a dinner group and it feels better if I just call it that. I didn't want to be in a dinner group, I wanted to be in a book group, but I've bitched about that before and won't repeat myself too much here.) Below is what I served when it was my turn, in August, to host the Book Group, I mean the Dinner Group. Tonight we're pretending that we're getting together to discuss Unaccustomed Earth by Jhumpa Lahiri, which I'm almost finished and liked a lot. A whole lot, which is unusual because it's a short story collection and I thought I didn't like short story collections.

 

 

 

Post dinner report: Once again, I'm ready to quit this group. I really hate myself the morning after each dinner. I talk too much, I interrupt people, I'm overly nervous. I simply don't like myself and don't want to feel that way. I've tried to quit before but failed. Sigh.