How to be good, Nick Hornby - This British guy who became famous for High fidelity is a wonderful writer. That sort of "guy next door"writing that you can't help but liking, I've always thought. As many of the other books in my journey this year, I remembered very little about this title, and traipsed around these pages like a drunkard. The characters are horrific, imho. The main character is a doctor, and the number of times she mentions that alone is a reason for you to hate all GPs in the world and think they are as self-absorbed as she is. She thinks of divorcing her husband, another self-absorbed brat, and then something happens, and he decides to be a self-righteous brat instead. Everybody is equally horrible, I think. Even the kids don't add to anything good. They go from "we hate each other" to "we may be hateful", he decides he will adopt a weirdo and "be good" and all hell breaks loose. Now, the million dollar question would be, is it worth reading? Surprisingly, it sort of is. Hornby writes very well, and despite the depressing tone of life he conveys in this story, that is fine literature.
A caverna, José Saramago - Que livro sensacional. Não sei nem como começar a falar dele sem usar adjetivos, o que diria Stephen King que está errado. Dane-se Stephen King. É incrível, é lindo, é poético. O protagonista, sua honestidade crua, sua filha, o genro, o cão Achado. Até chegar à caverna, muito se percorre, e nenhum passo é em falso, posso assegurar. O mais lindo é que se está falando simplesmente da vida, da vida de oleiro, da vida que precisa ser vivida, nada mais. E de algum modo a gente se envolve, se aproxima, e no fim, quer ir com eles. Pra onde eles forem. Ah, Saramago, você foi embora cedo demais.
The house of sleep, Jonathan Coe - So far, I didn't know why I once thought this guy was so wonderful. After this book, I finally had an inkling. It is superbly well written and well thought of, in terms of structure - like the stages of sleep - and characters. Still, for me, not something I want to re read when I get old.
Tinto de verano, Elvira Lindo - Um livro de crônicas em espanhol que me soou muitíssimo como Martha Medeiros.
A promising man, Elizabeth Young - Chick lit that is honest and reasonably fun, but a bit on the serious side - there were some things I thought were a bit far fetched, like how involved the hero was with helping the young girl who was nothing to him at all - and despite the fact I respect how not of a wimp the heroine was, for a change, it got a bit tiresome to read so much about nothing.
The guy next door, Meg Cabot - The book was all written in e-mail format, which is amusing in 2017, because it feels so odd. (it was published in 2002, you all old souls). First, because it is not natural anymore, and second, because the author is actually able to give voices that sound authentic to most of the characters. The romance is cute and old fashioned - as a 2002 book with a pink cover was expected to be - and in general, it was a great afternoon with a cup of tea. But it hasn't changed my life, nor it will change yours, unless you have a fetish with e-mail, it is your first chick lit or you are in love with Meg Cabot.