Briefly

I spent a decent portion of this afternoon wandering through the somnolent whispers and sad summer haze of The Virgin Suicides. Such a lovely book. I wish I could say I'm reading it, but I'm not. I'm working on a new edition of it. Which is almost as good, I suppose.
Anyway. Life has been busy. I've been managing a smidge of writing almost every day, which is grand. And I've read two books recently.
First, The Luxe by Anna Godbersen. So much fun! Serious teenage angst, secret love affairs, demanding parents. Secrets, lies, seductions, hidden desires . . . And set in historic Manhattan! Really, truly, this is great guilty-pleasure reading. I promise. And I can't wait to read the rest of the series.
Second, Leonard Cohen's Collected Poems of the 1950s and '60s. I tried really hard to like the man's poetry. I read most of the collection. I just can't quite bring myself to jump on the Cohen bandwagon though. I kept expecting him to say a little something more, to be a little tighter, a little less . . . I don't know. I just felt like most of the poems were missing something.
So, that's books four and five. Maybe in the future I'll remember to number them as I go.
And now, I'm off to a fun-filled evening with a good friend from work. First, hummus and dolmas for dinner, followed by cookies. Then a great concert at the Beacon Theatre. I'll try to get back here tomorrow to let you know how it is. In the meantime, have a lovely evening!