A close friend recently posted a request for reading recommendations on her Facebook page. I responded with some admittedly embarrassing recommendations which I won’t list here again but, suffice it to say, they were mostly within the urban fantasy and young adult genres. I even may have noted the words “witches” and “vampires.” This is a smart, intellectual friend. We suffered through our doctoral programs together. So, she has smart friends and most of them recommended top quality literature. Think Hemingway, Woolf, Tolstoy and you get the idea.
So, what happened to me? Why did I have to fight the urge to post “yeah, Anna Karenina is great and all but have you tried Divergent?” To put it in context, my friend recently had a baby and was asking about books to read while nursing. I was remembering myself during my first 3 months (okay more like 6 months) post-baby. The notion of trying to read Hemingway, let along Woolf, during those months was hilarious. While every woman’s experience after childbirth is unique, mine was not one of endless quiet, reflective moments – the type well-suited to reading quality literature. Read more