Between the Sunday Times, recommendations from friends, my regular blog reads and the new arrivals shelf at the library, I usually maintain at least one or two books on deck. When I've not had something to read in the past, I've grabbed one of the dusty titles that Worldwide is unwilling to part with off the shelf. That's how the Nabokov, Austen, Fitzgerald, Faulkner and Hemingway have made it on to my lists over the last couple of years.
But since I can't bring myself to read the Anne of Green Gables series (apologies to my native country), I think that I've finally exhausted my emergency stash. And after my last book, I need to give neuroscience a rest for awhile. So yesterday I decided that when looking for something to read, I would try to pick up a piece of fiction from the library by an author whose name starts with the letter A, and to see if I could work my way through the alphabet over the next year or two. It's always interesting to try something or someone you've always been meaning to read, but never have.
First up: One Fat Englishman by Kingsley Amis. Is Balzac next? Barrie? Bombeck? Stay tuned.