I’ve got nothing new and juicy to read these days, so I’m just going through my Kindle library and picking books I’ve had since forever and have been putting off for various reasons: I didn’t feel like reading a certain author, the book was too long, it just didn’t sound appealing, my friends hated it and so on. Brave New World fits in several of these categories. I’ve been reading a lot of dystopian literature recently ( Oryx & Crake, The Handmaid’s Tale, 1Q84, Cloud Atlas, etc.) and sort of felt I’d had enough of it for a while. And also, although a couple of my book devouring friends really liked Brave New World, V. really really hated it, has been very vocal about his feelings and expects me to despise it too I’m sure.
Rather than disappoint him (though I’m not sure I will), I just decided I wouldn’t read it, or not anytime soon anyway. Until now, when I’ve got nothing particularly exciting to read, and there was Huxley’s book, on the first page of my Kindle library, giving me this accusing, I’m-a-freaking-classic look.
I’m just a couple of pages into it at the moment, but it’ll be the book to lean on as I’m making my way through this grim rainy London weather this week.
I finished Khaled Hosseini’s And the Mountains Echoed this weekend, and I don’t know, I think Hosseini might just not be for me. He writes absolutely beautifully, and I love that. I’m really touched by the imagery and some of the characters I can really relate to. But I find the stories predictable, and when I manage to make out where things are going before I’m even halfway through the book, it’s just such a letdown. I guess I’m in this place these days where I’d like to be surprised. And believe me, there are incredibly surprising books out there. They’re the ones I never forget.