Category Archives: Bestseller

Bear Town: Almost as bad as being alone with my thoughts

I feel like I’ve written this blog post before. It was when I read Fredrik Backman’s other runaway bestseller, A Man Called Ove. In that post I explained why the novel was sentimental crap not worth reading. So you’re asking yourself ‘okay, if you didn’t like A Man Called Ove, why read Bear Town?’. Legit question, friend. Legit.  Continue reading

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Filed under Bestseller, Fiction

Every Thing, Every Thing: Making Reading Great Again (in a novel that is terrible)

There really must be something about young adults and being trapped in the house. Maybe it’s about imagining things that are inaccessible? Or butting up against societal constraints on self and expression? Or probably in response to years of being grounded? Whatever the case this is the third YA novel I’ve read with the protagonist trapped in the house: this time it’s not agoraphobia, but instead SCID – an auto-immune disease that makes our protagonist, Madeline, a ‘bubble girl’ who has to live her life in the bubble of her house. Continue reading

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Filed under Bestseller, Fiction, Young Adult Fiction

Truly, Madly, Guilty: The Unexpected Pleasure

I don’t believe in diets. In fact I’m pretty vocal about how ridiculous and counterproductive they are. Part of the reason is because of the fast-binge cycle: your body isn’t built for nutrient deprivation and so you get hungrier and hungrier until you find yourself crouched over the tub of icecream in the middle of the night wondering for what purpose you ever started out. Continue reading

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The Racketeer: What a Tub of Icecream is to Literature

I packed for the cottage: Margaret Atwood’s Cat’s Eye, a collection of the best of Alice Munro, and the only Margaret Laurence novel I’ve never read, The Fire Dwellers. I was set with the triumvirate of excellent Canadian authors (who also happen to be white ladies). I imagined sitting on the dock taking in the changing leaves and lapping lake while absorbing some of the best of Canadian literature. Instead I got to the cottage, put out all the books on the coffee table and immediately… picked up the copy of John Grishman’s The Racketeer from the cottage bookshelf. Turns out what I really wanted was to eat a tub of mental icecream. And I did. And I felt appropriately sick after, so there you go. I seem to recall C. using a similar description in her guest post, so thanks C. for making me think of novels as tasty treats! Continue reading

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Filed under Fiction, Book I'll Forget I Read, Bestseller