When it comes to my summer downtime, the last thing I want to do is read very serious and important things
Every year, about this time, my Instagram feed fills up with pictures of books. They’re piled somewhere between five and ten inches high, sometimes stacked neatly, sometimes in pleasing disarray. There’s invariably a Booker prize winner or shortlistee in there, along with that novel everyone’s been raving about since August, and a self-help book masquerading as an important comment on our times. Maybe there’s a classic or two, a slender small-press gem, and the next big thing in new release nonfiction.
There’s an art to the summer reading stack, of course. It’s balanced in genre, represents diversity of authorship, covers off at least two major preoccupations of the zeitgeist while nodding to the greats of literature past. These are all good things. And there’s something really comforting about pictures of exciting books by great writers in good company, tinted with soft yellow and accompanied by words of reader enthusiasm.
Continue reading...from The Guardian https://ift.tt/2F81H9t
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