What Book Are You Currently Reading?

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I haven't been doing too much heavy reading lately, but I just finished The Four Agreements by don Miguel Ruiz, and it's surprisingly good and one of the easiest reads possible.

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intercourse by Andrea Dworkin (in honor of nathan... jk )

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intercourse by Andrea Dworkin (in honor of nathan... jk )

Good Lord, really?

Have you read it? I don't think I can get through it. It's tough to read literature reviews of other books that I have not read. Why do authors do that? Dworkin sees sex (as practiced) as misogynistic. Misogynistic men also see sex as misogynistic. That suggests maybe she's going too far, sure. But she brings ideas that are more complicated than the caricature and are worth examining at least once in your life if you are ever in the mood.

I'm also reading the bluest eye by Toni Morrison- well I finished it.

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Native Son by Richard Wright. A surprisingly sophomoric book, but it must have been revolutionary in 1940.

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I've been getting into throwaway fiction recently.

The Crocodile by Maurizio de Giovanni
The Clinic by Jonathan Kellerman

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Inquiry into Human Understanding by David Hume

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The Glorious Cause by Middlekauf

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The ownerless ruin had, before World War Terminus, been tended and maintained. Here had been the suburbs of San Francisco, a short ride by monorail rapid transit; the entire peninsula had been chattered like a bird tree with life and opinions and complaints, and now the watchful owners had either died or migrated to a colony world. Mostly the former; it had been a costly war despite the valiant predictions of the Pentagon and its smug scientific vassal, the Rand Corporation--which had, in fact, existed not far from this spot. Like the apartment owners, the corporation had departed, evidently for good. No one missed it.
In addition, no one today remembered why the war had come about or who, if anyone, had won. The dust which had contaminated most of the planet's surface had originated in no country, and no one, even the wartime enemy, had planned on it. First, the owls had died. At the time it had seemed almost funny, the fat, fluffy white birds lying here and there, in yards and on streets; coming out no earlier than twilight, as they had while alive, the owls escaped notice. Medieval plagues had manifested themselves in a similar way, in the form of many dead rats. This plague, however, had descended from above.

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Trick Mirror by Jia Tolentino.