Book 12. Anne has a theory that I don't read any books by women. She's wrong of course. Except for all the evidence that she's right. The data from my Kindle certainly suggests she's right. I've not looked closely, I'm scared to, but it's probably only about 10% woman authors. That's not good. I can't explain it. But it doesn't seem good.
On top of that, I'm even more ashamed to say that I didn't really enjoy Jennifer Egan's A Visit From The Goon Squad. Possibly alone amongst all the people I know. Just didn't get on with it. Didn't even get to the famous Powerpoint bit.
I loved these two little moments though:
"It had a beautiful screwdriver in it, the orange translucent handle gleaming like a lollipop in its worn leather loop, the silvery shaft sculpted, sparkling."
"He’s rigged a tiny cassette player with a small set of foam earphones to listen to demo tapes and rough mixes. Occasionally, he’ll hand the device to Mindy, wanting her opinion, and each time, the experience of music pouring directly against her eardrums – hers alone – is a shock that makes her eyes well up; the privacy of it, the way it transforms her surroundings into a golden montage, as if she were looking back on this lark in Africa with Lou from some distant future."