What with being on vacation and all, I actually did a little reading, though not all that much. The vacation being in Hawaii, with snorkeling and activities galore, I ended each day thoroughly pooped, and only completed one novel in my time away.
Pooped like bear, I was, and that would make more sense to you if you read "A Dirty Job" by Christopher Moore. Not only does the book have a cover that glows in the dark, not only is there a Russian neighbor who is "possessed of an atavistic compulsion toward ursine simile," not only does it have an engaging plot about death, not only does it make me laugh out loud on almost every page, but it also contains the immortal line, "I like my men like I like my tea: green and weak." Don't we all wish we'd thought that up ourselves? I certainly do.
Before vacation, I read "The Polysyllabic Spree" by Nick Hornby, which is a book full of book reviews, making me feel unworthy and slow, but I loved it nevertheless. I now am possessed of an atavistic compulsion toward reading David Copperfield, but I think it will fade soon.
Because, let's face it, that's two--two!--relatively worthy books in under a month. I'm not sure I can keep this up.