I'm always running a bit behind where I would like to be (in my reading), and this generally intensifies in the warmer months when I am not riding the TTC and so reading a bit less. On the other hand, when I have time on weekends (not all that often to be honest), I try to read outside.* I read a bit outside this afternoon and finished up Azuela's The Underdogs, so I am moving on to the next "short novel," which is Cyril Connolly's The Unquiet Grave, which happens to be about writers so rarely living up to their self-professed goal of writing masterpieces of fiction. Incidentally, Connolly did not set the literary world on fire either, producing only one novel and fragments of others (and mostly wrote reviews and essays), despite his evident gifts.
Anyway, I do try to track the shorter novels separately from the longer ones. A few other short novels that I plan to get through reasonably soon are Coupland's Microserfs, Alix Ohlin's We Want What We Want, Farrant's Altered Statements, Soseki's The Three-Cornered World, Pynchon's The Crying of Lot 49, Erdrich's The Bingo Palace, Gavron's An Acre of Broken Ground, Dickens's American Notes, Plymell's Benzedrine Highway and then slightly longer (but still on this list) Huxley's The Devils of Loudun and Packer's Drinking Coffee Elsewhere. And maybe I will reread Edna O'Brien's Night. As it happens, I did put in a request for Nabokov's Transparent Things, so will tackle that fairly soon. And it turns out the Jones Library has Steinbeck's Cannery Row. I own a copy in a LOA volume, but it is just so much easier to read as a stand-alone book. I need to return some graphic novels there anyway, so I may drop them off and grab the Steinbeck. Now there is a sequel to Cannery Row called Sweet Thursday (with a pretty awesome cover). It's a bit longer, so I might see about slotting that in this fall.
Even though I am not reading quite as much now, I managed to get through Ada and then Vera, or Faith, and The Left Hand of Darkness is shorter than I thought, so I should have no problem reading it by next week for Book Club. That means I can start finally returning to the books I laid out in "tranches" in this post. So in a bit of a jumble, these are some of the next (longer) books I think I'll be reading: Dorfman's The Last Song of Manuel Sendero, Narayan's The Vendor of Sweets, Thammavongsa's Pick a Colour, Tim O'Brien's In the Lake of the Woods, maybe LeGuin's The Dispossessed, Harvey's Orbital, O'Connor's A Good Man is Hard to Find, Woolf's The Waves, Offill's Weather, Thien's The Book of Records, Mavis's Montreal Stories, Amis's The Information, Scarlett Thomas's The End of Mr Y, William Maxwell's So Long, See You Tomorrow, Lamming's The Pleasures of Exile, Marra's A Constellation of Vital Phenomena, Chakraborty's The Adventures of Amina Al-Sirafi (on the TPL hold shelf), Forster's Howard's End, McCullers's The Heart is a Lonely Hunter, Kingsolver's Unsheltered and Animal Dreams, O'Neill's The Capitol of Dreams, Ghosh's The Calcutta Chromosome and In an Antique Land, El Akhad's What Strange Paradise, Waugh's Vile Bodies, Murdoch's Under the Net and The Sea, The Sea, Woolf's To the Lighthouse, Nabokov's Pale Fire and then Martel's Son of Nobody, and something else by Edna O'Brien (though I haven't decided what that might be).
I'm sure there will be plenty of deviations from this. I don't have a lot of long trips scheduled, though I might end up heading over to Montreal more often than usual. I am, however, making a very quick trip out to Halifax next week. I probably should see if I can find one or two short books that I expect to leave behind, rather than a long opus (which I won't get as far into as I would like). On the other hand, maybe I should take Hulme's The Bone People. I only recently found out how divisive this book was when it won the Booker Prize. Books prominently featuring child abuse are kind of a red flag for me, and I may well decide this is just not a book I actually want to finish, though I might as well give it a chance before deciding for good.
Interestingly, this post also seems to be where I set off on a fairly long detour into poetry. I meant to make a list of what poetry collections I have read and if there are any notes I wanted to make on them, but it is actually far too late, so I'll just have to circle back on that.
* It's actually a bit of a challenge for me to recall which books I largely finished up outside on the back deck. One of the first was Camus's The Plague (after I finally got over my qualms about reading it during the various COVID shut-downs) and Station Eleven. Probably at least some of Augie March. Based on what I was reading last summer, I must have read at least some of Dombey and Son outside and probably some of Tim O'Brien's America Fantastica. I suppose it doesn't really matter, though I am glad that the weather is finally cooperating, and I can get out more...


















