A Year in Reading: Lydia Kiesling
The last book I bought before the shelter-in-place order was The Mirror & the Light, which was a celebrity event for me. I had preordered the book, and I went and collected it with a friend who was visiting, the last guest I would have for quite some time, the last lunch inside a restaurant, the last time I worked in the coffee shop, all of that. I read this novel before bed for what seemed like years between approximately March 12 and approximately April something? May something? I don’t know. A commenter on an earlier entry in this series said they don’t want to hear about the homeschooled children. Whoops! By the time I got into bed with this book at night I was worn the fuck out from being the primary caregiver when the playgrounds are off-limits and you just walk in circles around the neighborhood and yell “space” in sepulchral tones and comfort the sad children and make snacks. Sorry it’s tedious to hear about—it was tedious to experience. I’m aware it’s preferable to being dead.
I wasn’t bored by , but I had three brain cells to rub together, so it took me for fucking ever to read this book. And yet when I got to the last third? fourth? I started to pick up the pace, and
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