I have been on a reading kick the past few months. I attribute it to the acquisition of a bedside table and lamp that now allow me to comfortably read in bed while T watches stupid movies. Last night, I finished The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga. It was recommended by so many people and yet I struggled to get through it. I didn't find the story engaging, as Adiga was transparent in his use of it as a vehicle for a social commentary on modern India. Further, the characters lacked development and were mere sketches of stereotypical servants and masters. Though it did convey a picture (though, rather simplified) of class warfare and social hierarchy in India, I'm surprised it won the Man Booker Prize.
I was relieved when I got to the last page, since that meant I could start something new. I immediately began Manhunt: The 12-Day Chase for Lincoln's Killer by James L. Swanson. This is far from the kind of book I would choose to read, but a friend lent it to me and assured me that it doesn't read like a history textbook, but rather like a white-knuckle mystery (also, not my favorite genre) that I wouldn't be able to put down. Who doesn't love reading a book they can't put down?
On another note, I have two more weeks before I am suppose to be on a plane to the US for Xmas with the fam, which I'm excited about. But, I have yet to get my tickets. I hate travel planning. Especially when it's peak season and not easy to do. I am in avoidance mode.
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