The term "favorite book" is a really hard one to define. It's like asking the crazy cat lady down the street who her favorite "child" is. There's too many to choose from! I think I just unwittingly implied that I'm a crazy shut-in. But hey friends, I get out. I get out and go to lab. See? That's totally normal. At any rate, over Thanksgiving (I always take every vacation as an opportunity to read something fun) I read "Villette" by Charlotte Brontë. It's about exactly what you'd expect from one of the Brontë trio. So in short, it was depressing, and then it got really sad. Actually that's not a fair assessment of it. Dr. Bretton's mom is just the sort of sassy gal most of us women aspire to be when we're in our olders, Graham Bretton is the just the nice sort of lad most of us women would like to meet, and the ending of the book is just the realistic sort of ending that happens a lot in life . . . but maybe sometimes wouldn't want to have happen. So, if you've got a vacation coming up and you'd like to read about how an uneducated gal from the sticks of England moves to the French countryside to teach a bunch of dumb girls how to speak the real lingua franca, i.e. English, then this is the book for you. And with a summary like that, how can you miss? No really, really. It's good.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
New Favorite Book.
The term "favorite book" is a really hard one to define. It's like asking the crazy cat lady down the street who her favorite "child" is. There's too many to choose from! I think I just unwittingly implied that I'm a crazy shut-in. But hey friends, I get out. I get out and go to lab. See? That's totally normal. At any rate, over Thanksgiving (I always take every vacation as an opportunity to read something fun) I read "Villette" by Charlotte Brontë. It's about exactly what you'd expect from one of the Brontë trio. So in short, it was depressing, and then it got really sad. Actually that's not a fair assessment of it. Dr. Bretton's mom is just the sort of sassy gal most of us women aspire to be when we're in our olders, Graham Bretton is the just the nice sort of lad most of us women would like to meet, and the ending of the book is just the realistic sort of ending that happens a lot in life . . . but maybe sometimes wouldn't want to have happen. So, if you've got a vacation coming up and you'd like to read about how an uneducated gal from the sticks of England moves to the French countryside to teach a bunch of dumb girls how to speak the real lingua franca, i.e. English, then this is the book for you. And with a summary like that, how can you miss? No really, really. It's good.
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2 comments:
Are you getting sick of my lame comments yet?
(Unless you read them in order of your posts, in which case you don't know yet that I just commented a lot.)
But, I agree with you that it's too hard to choose a favorite book. I never can do it. I'm always looking for some favorites to add to the huge list, though, so I'll for sure give this one a try.
I never get sick of comments! I just saw the footage of Tristan and Oliver singing. So adorable! They're going to love that video when they actually leave on their missions in elevenish years.
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