The Dry Grass of August

I hope my grandmother never reads this.  I took this book off the shelf in her study without asking.  Which could land me in hot water if she found out.  Don’t worry though, I took good care of it, and it’s sitting by the garage door, ready to be returned on my next visit.

Night Diver

I can’t believe it’s been a month since I’ve reviewed a book!  Never fear, I’ve been reading the whole time.  I think I got out of sync because I did the thing where I was reading several books at once and just couldn’t finish any of them.  But I’m not sure why I haven’t reviewed this book yet.  It was a total guilty pleasure book that I definitely did not struggle to finish.

The Vanquished

I started reading this book last month, and it was the sort of non-fiction book that made me want to read a pulpy fiction book at the same time.  I took a trip to Barnes & Noble to get book number 2 in Rick Riordan’s Magnus Chase series and walked out $100 lighter.  Always a hazard in my world.  This book was so very dry that I actually started reading three other books since I started it.

The Sword of Summer

Magnus Chase is a homeless kid living on the streets of Boston when he is attacked by a fantastic creature.  He finds out that is related to a Norse god, and that his destiny is bound to either saving or ending the world.  Armed with a magical sword, loyal friends, sarcasm, and a undying love of falafel, he rolls with it.  And adventure ensues.

Dead Wake: The Last Crossing of the Lusitania

Dead Wake tells the story of the Lusitania, a civilian luxury liner that a German U-boat sank in 1915.  The story follows not just the ship and select passengers, but also the story of the German U-boat and its crew.  Larson also adds a global perspective to the incident with his reading of its impact on President Wilson and the eventual entry of the United States into World War I.

The Afterlife of Stars

This was the sort of book that pretentious Honors English college students gush over as “important” and “meaningful”.  Which, to me, usually meant it was weird, full of “lyricism”, and contained sentences that never seemed to end.  I wanted to like it.  I wanted it to be something special.  But I really, really hated it.