Inflatable Sheep

You know I'm one of those constant readers. I can't always control my world, but escape is possible in whatever world is in the book I'm reading at the moment. Particularly if it's a book with writing so seamless. I don't feel like I'm reading it, but living it. So cool.

At the end of April, I fIinished “Perfume” by Patrick Suskind, the tale of olfactory depravity set in the 1750's in France which was apparently at that time a veritable smorgasbord of stenches from the beggars to the nobility. Unique story. Ended just right.

For something completely different, I jumped into Jhumpa Lahiri's “The Namesake.” The book spans two generations, one born in India, the other in America. It felt like life flowing.

Then I broke my leg. You'd think I'd have a ton of time to read. No, just the opposite. However since then, I finished Richard Russo's “Empire Falls.”

Great story, wonderful example of seamless writing. I didn't watch the mini-series that passed by on TV; didn't want to taint the book. Liked the way Richard built characters that I cared about, made them very human—good and bad. The mystery and surprising ending was icing on the cake. I haven't read anything for the past week because I want to let all that goodness settle.

Of course, I had to order some more of his books and they should be here next week: “Straight Man,” “The Whore's Child,” “Mohawk,” “The Risk Pool,” and “Nobody's Fool.”

August should be a good month for reading fiction.