You know how every non-fiction book in the last three years has been about the author doing one odd, life-disrupting thing for one full year and then writing a book about it? I'm reading one of those books a week for one full year and then writing a book about it. It's My Year Of Everything, and you're soaking in it. CONTACT: Dave Holmesfirstname.lastname@example.org
So my iPad Kindle app tells me I’m around a tenth of the way through “Chastened,” and I’m still not quite sure about the terms of her Year Of Celibacy. Apparently, there is no penetration- makes sense- but I don’t know what is allowed. So far, we’re getting a lot of information about her ex-boyfriend, the guy to whom she surrendered her maidenhead or whatever hifalutin expression she uses. Not a ton of forward motion here yet, but when the action in a book is actually a lack of action, it’s hard to tell when the action starts.
I do know this: I miss actual physical books. My iPad is GREAT (especially now that I have Flipboard), but reading with it is clunk-a-roo. It’s summertime, and I want to do my reading in a deck chair in the sun, but the iPad is impossible to read in sunlight. I could get a Kindle, but my God the last thing I need is another rectangle to stare at.
Also I don’t want to get tanning butter on my iPad*.
*Also I still call it “tanning butter.”