Kitchen Confidential by Anthony Bourdain

I took a fateful cab ride many years ago. Rolling back from the Lower East Side with a bunch of close friends, all of us fresh from scoring dope, I jokingly remarked on an article I'd seen, detailing the statistical likelihood of successfully detoxing.

"Only one in four has a chance at making it. Ha, ha, ha," I said, my words ringing immediately painful and hollow as soon as I'd said them. I counted our number in the back of that rattling Checker Marathon. Four. And right there, I knew that if one of us was getting off dope, and staying off dope, it was going to be me. I wasn't going to let these guys drag me down. I didn't care what it took, how long I'd known them, what we'd been through together or how close we'd been. I was going to live. I was the guy.

I made it. They didn't.

I don't feel guilty about that.

-Kitchen Confidential

Tony Bourdain is not a rock star, although it would be an easy mistake to make. He's a (now-famous*) chef, and reputedly quite a good one. Kitchen Confidential details his misspent youth as a cook-for-hire, and how he cleaned himself him up, got serious, and started running Brasserie Les Halles here in New York.

Kitchen Confidential also, famously, tells some tricks of the trade - I've been hearing the "never order seafood on a Monday" advice for years now, based on this book. That's really only one chapter, however, as Bourdain mostly hops from kitchen to kitchen, giving a behind-the-scenes look at some of the many places where he has worked. I especially liked the chapter in which he takes the reader through a day in his life at Les Halles, giving a comprehensive look at every thing a top chef must juggle, from ordering food to managing staff issues to, of course, actually cooking. It only reinforced my belief - initially brought on by reading the excellent Heat by Bill Buford and by watching bits and pieces of Hell's Kitchen - that I would make a lousy chef. Not only because of my absolute lack of culinary skills, although certainly that would be a problem, but because of the lightning-fast pace. Also, the yelling. I prefer slower, yelling-free environments. This is one of many ways in which Bourdain and I differ.

Despite the fact that I find the prospect of ever encountering him in real life slightly terrifying (the man is intense), I really enjoyed having Bourdain as a guide in the world of cooking. Kitchen Confidential is actually not the first book I've read by him**, so I knew to expect the cursing and the chain smoking and the jibes at vegetarians. I assume many people are also familiar with his persona from his show No Reservations which I, not having cable, have never seen. I mean, it took me this long to read the book. Clearly I'm a little behind.

Up next: Although I have My Life in France by Julia Child sitting here, I've decided I need a little breather from cooking. I'm rereading North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell. Another reread, I know. Why, you might ask? Surely it's not just an excuse to post pictures from the miniseries, like this:


No, of course not. That would be terribly shallow of me. You'll just have to wait a bit to see why I think Mr. Thornton is perhaps a better catch than Mr. Darcy. Oh yes, I said it.

*He passes the dad test: If my dad knows who someone is, that person is really, truly famous (as opposed to Us Weekly-famous or only-on-music-blogs-famous).

**A Cook's Tour, which follows Bourdain around the world as he seeks out the perfect meal, is highly entertaining and informative. I believe it was also a tv show on the Food Network, which I'd love to see, if only because in the book he'd occasionally go off on great tangents about the hazards of filming.

President Obama's Summer Reading

I've decided to bring out the big guns in recommendation, y'all: Barack Obama. Summer reading list (via Slate). Let's do this.

1. The Way Home by George Pelecanos
2. Lush Life by Richard Price
3. Hot, Flat, and Crowded by Thomas Friedman
4. John Adams by David McCullough
5. Plainsong by Kent Haruf

My thoughts: First, I have actually read two of these books! I mean, I don't really remember Plainsong at all, so maybe that doesn't count. But if the President and I ever had to make small talk (because that seems pretty likely), we could totally chat about John Adams. Slate seems to think that he will be dropping Adams references in the months to come. I, for one, love this idea.

Onto the ones I haven't read: I'm sure Hot, Flat, and Crowded is very well written, terribly informative, etc. It sounds like miserable summer reading, though. I'm much more on board with the Price and Pelecanos, both of whom wrote for The Wire. I think it's pretty safe to say that they've got a handle on the urban crime story. I read The Night Gardener by Pelecanos because of the Wire connection and found it pretty engaging, although crime still isn't really my genre of choice.

I wonder if anyone kept tabs on what the First Lady brought. Fingers crossed for Sookie Stackhouse!

Julie & Julia by Julie Powell

The kitchen was a crime scene. Eggshells littered the floor, crackling underfoot. What looked like three days' worth of unwashed dishes were piled up in the sink, and half-unpacked boxes had been shoved to the corners of the room. Unseen down the dark throat of the trashcan, yet as conspicuous as tarpaulin-covered murder victims, were the mutilated remains of eggs. If the purplish-stained shreds of yolk clinging stickily to the walls had been blood spatters, a forensics specialist would have had a field day. But Eric wasn't standing at the stove to triangulate the shooter's position - he was poaching an egg in red wine. Two other eggs sat on a plate by the stove. These I had poached myself before Eric's and my impromptu reenactment of that scene in Airplane! in which all the passengers line up and take turns slapping and shaking the hysterical woman, with Eric taking the roles of all the passengers and I the part of the hysteric. These three eggs were the sole survivors of the even dozen I had begun with three hours before. One incoherent gurgle of despair escaped me, seeing those two pitiful things lying there, twisted and blue as the lips of corpses. "We're going to starve, aren't we?"

-Julie & Julia

I've been flipping through Julie & Julia, which I finished last night, trying to find a passage that would best demonstrate Julie Powell's writing style. Although the one above does not illustrate her tendency to go off on tangents (my head was spinning in the opening pages, when she seemed to be cramming in every thought that flitted through her mind), it does give you an idea of the level of drama you will contend with throughout the book. It's not just some broken eggs, oh no, it's a massacre.

On the one hand, I can sympathize with Julie. She embarked upon an extraordinarily difficult project: to cook the 524 recipes in Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking in a year, and to blog about the experience. She lives in a crummy (although spacious, and in New York that can't be dismissed out of hand) apartment, she hates her job, she's worried about turning thirty. These are all concerns that foster some sympathy.

But wow, is she ever melodramatic about it. See, Julie Powell is kind of neurotic, which I can identify with, but she is also super loud and in your face about it, which I find pretty obnoxious. To be fair, she is quite up front about acknowledging her own faults. However, after just the second or third tantrum over cooking, I felt my sympathy withering away. I mean, really. I guess I've never had a lot of patience for overly dramatic people, and I found her actions in a lot of instances to be so over-the-top as to be almost incomprehensible. Open to any given page and you're just as likely as not to find her crying over aspic or yelling at her long-suffering husband, Eric*. It gets a bit tiresome.

I feel like it's rather unkind for me to rag on Julie, considering she's a real person. But this is the way she chose to present herself to the world, for better or worse. Is it what she's like in real life? I have no idea. If you choose to read this book, though, you'll be spending time with this Julie, and to be forewarned is to be forearmed.

Onto the food. The food was interesting. I'm not really a foodie, and I'm certainly far from being a competent cook, so I was a bit out of my element. I cannot imagine making even one recipe out of MtAoFC, let alone all of them. To be honest, most of them did not sound that appetizing to me. There is a lot of offal involved, folks. And even putting that aside, it's hard to get excited about eggs in aspic. I mean, that's a culinary challenge, for sure, but what a nauseating result.

The food looks better in the film, which I saw prior to reading the book. Looking back, it was a great adaptation. Julie is played by Amy Adams, who has enough charm to temper her character's more obnoxious tendencies. And of course the real star of the show is Meryl Streep as Julia Child. Julie Powell invented little fictional passages from Julia's life and inserted them throughout the book; I didn't feel that they really added anything. The film gives a more fleshed-out account of how Julia came to cooking, and her struggles to first succeed in a male-dominated world, and then to work on the behemoth that was MtAoFC. I wouldn't normally say this, but in this instance I would recommend the film over the book. Not that the film is any masterpiece, but it's pretty enjoyable, and I predict it will cause far less eyerolling.

Up next: As I suggested in my last post, the food trend will continue, at least for a little while: Kitchen Confidential by Anthony Bourdain, which I have wanted to read for years. Exciting!

*In the film, Eric, played by Chris Messina, finds it irritating that Julie portrays him as so saintly in her blog. Obviously no one is perfect, but if Julie is being reasonably accurate in her book, the man put up with a lot of hysterical crying and screaming. A lot.

The Mysterious Benedict Society and the Perilous Journey by Trenton Lee Stewart

Rhonda gestured toward the box. "What happens to Mr. Benedict and Number Two depends on that," she said grimly. She sounded if she still couldn't believe it, and indeed, as if speaking to herself, she repeated in a whisper, "Everything depends on that."

The children moved closer. It was an ordinary-looking box, about the size of a fruit crate, with several holes punched into it. Together they peered through the holes into the box's dark interior, anxious to see just what it might be - what the box might possibly contain that would determine the fate of those they held so dear.

It was a pigeon. Only that. A pigeon.

-The Mysterious Benedict Society and the Perilous Journey

To begin, I must say that I wasn't sure if I wanted to read this book. I had mixed feelings about the first book in this series, and I've learned that there are too many wonderful books in the world to waste time on mediocre ones. I was fully prepared to put this down after fifty pages if I wasn't engaged.

Well, guess what? I was utterly engaged by page fifty, to the point where putting it down didn't even cross my mind. I finished it up at jury duty yesterday, where the lively adventures of the Benedict crew helped to move the morning along a little faster. To enjoy reading it so thoroughly was an excellent surprise.

At the end of the previous Benedict Society book, the kids had thwarted the evil plans of Ledroptha Curtain, but he and his minions had managed to escape. When Perilous Journey begins, the kids have been out of danger for some time - but also out of adventure. Sensing this, their kindly benefactor, Mr. Benedict, arranges for them to go on a worldwide tour that will have them solving clues to get from one location to the next. Unfortunately, before they can begin, Benedict and his trusty assistant, Number Two, are kidnapped by the nefarious Mr. Curtain.

Stymied by Curtain's request that they give him information about a mysterious plant to secure their friends' release, the kids decide to embark on the trip Mr. Benedict had planned for them, hoping that his clues will at least lead to his last known location. Thus begins the titular perilous journey, which involves a lightning fast boat, a train, bicycles and even a seaplane.

One of the reasons that I found this book more appealing than the last lies strictly in the plot. In the original book, the kids infiltrate the mysterious school that Curtain has set up to train his associates. I found that it felt a bit recycled (Hogwarts by way of 1984, perhaps), while simultaneously feeling too clever by half - as though Trenton Lee Stewart were trying to jam in every bit of quirk and wonder he could think of, which left it entirely too quirky but not particularly wondrous.

The adventure of Perilous Journey moves along more quickly and doesn't get bogged down with school politics or the endless bouts of discussion and Morse code in Reynie and Sticky's bedroom. It's quite fun to let the clever and resourceful Benedict kids out into the real world, eliminating the claustrophobic element of keeping them cooped up on an island with their arch-enemy and all his henchmen. Okay, so they end back up on an island with their arch-enemy and his henchmen in this book, too - but it's much, much cooler. And may I say, the Ten Men (said henchmen)'s delightful way of speaking is exactly the kind of whimsy mixed with danger that you want in villains. ("'Now why would you do that, muffin? Why would you want to make old McCracken angry?'" for example).

The characters have become more nuanced in this second outing as well. Reynie, who has mostly been known for being clever and good, has become suspicious based on the events of the last book. He's finding it difficult to trust people, an interesting and realistic development. Sticky has become more confident as a result of his work in the last book, but has carried it too far, and has consequently developed an unfortunate habit of showing off his copious knowledge. He knows it, too, and finds it embarrassing and difficult to control. It will be interesting to see how these characteristics develop in the third book, due out in October.

Up next: Julie & Julia. I suspect I may go on a mini-spree of food-related books, in fact, based on what else I have sitting around my apartment.

Adaptation: True Blood, Season 1

When you came in, the air went out.
And every shadow filled up with doubt.

So begins "Bad Things," the devilishly catchy theme song of True Blood, HBO's adaptation of the Sookie Sackhouse novels. Is there any better way to describe that first meeting between Sookie and Vampire Bill? Him, sitting in Merlotte's, glowering, looking about as monstrous as he ever has. Her, delighted, bubbling over with excitement and anticipation. A vampire! Right here in Bon Temps!

True Blood loosely follows the arc of the first of Charlaine Harris's novel, Dead Until Dark. The writing and editing have been carefully done, with showrunners excising the superfluous (the Bubba character, most notably) and beefing up roles for interesting characters (especially Jason, Sookie's brother, and Lafayette, her coworker). They've also played up the political angle of the story, which gives some of the goings-on a bit more weight and real-world credibility.

The acting is across-the-board great. I've heard some complaints about the accents (three of the leads, Anna Paquin, Stephen Moyer, and Ryan Kwanten, are from New Zealand, England, and Australia respectively), but nothing sounded radically off to me. Of course, I'm no great expert of the accents of northern Louisiana. Also, I think it's cute that Stephen Moyer says Sook-EH instead of Sookie, so I may be biased.

The real standout of the cast is Rutina Wesley, who plays Sookie's friend Tara. As I mentioned in my previous post, I love Tara. She's a fantastically complicated character; a woman who's strong, scared, funny, angry, and vulnerable. It's a huge oversight that Rutina Wesley does not have an Emmy nomination this year. I also have to recognize Ryan Kwanten, who plays Jason Stackhouse. He takes a character who seems pretty dumb and unlikeable, who continues to do idiotic things throughout the season, and injects him with enough warmth that you kind of have to love him. It's a bit of a tightrope act.

I also really love the mood of the show. The ambience. Vampires fit in quite nicely among the swampy backwoods and the antebellum homes. It's a funny show as well though, particularly because of Tara and her scene-stealing cousin Lafayette. The funny moments are offset by moments of outright horror, including spouting blood and - well, whatever else it is that might come out when a vampire is staked in the most spectacularly gory manner possible. It is not always advisable to eat when watching True Blood, fair warning.

Having finished the first season and being in possession of some iTunes credit, I was all set to settle in with season 2. I'm quite curious to see what direction they go in, considering that by the end of the season 1 finale, they've set up two storylines from the second book (but I'm pretty certain that they aren't planning to follow them too closely). Anyway, imagine my disappointment when I discovered it wasn't online yet. I'll have to console myself with season 2 of Mad Men - a fine show in and of itself, no doubt, but seriously lacking in vampires. (Time travelling crossover special, anyone? You know you want to see Sterling Cooper marketing TruBlood.)

Living Dead in Dallas by Charlaine Harris

"He wasn't working last night," I said. "Anthony was working, Anthony Bolivar."
"Who is that?" Alcee's broad forehead wrinkled. "Don't recognize the name."
"He's a friend of Bill's. He was passing through, and he needed a job. He had the experience." He'd worked in a diner during the Great Depression.
"You mean the short-order cook at Merlotte's is a vampire?"

-Living Dead in Dallas

Remember what I said in the Bleak House entry about having trouble finding a good quotation sometimes? Yeah, it's like that here. I'm not reading the Sookie Stackhouse novels for the prose. I do like the idea of a vampire who worked in a diner in the Great Depression, though. I think one of my favorite things about vampires is all the history they've experienced. They're like one-way time travelers!

When we last left Sookie Stackhouse, the telepathic waitress dating vampire Bill Compton, she was recovering in a hospital bed after a nasty fight with the serial killer who had been preying on local women. The fate of that killer, who was hanging between life and death at the end of Dead Until Dark, is curiously never mentioned in this book. I mean, he was well known to Sookie and her friends, so you'd think it might be interesting to see how his death/recovery/existence in general had affected them. No dice. Forget he was ever there.

Instead this book expands Sookie's universe considerably. After the death of another one of her co-workers, as well as another brutal attack on her, Sookie is whisked off from the tiny town of Bon Temps, Louisiana to Dallas. There, Sookie is expected to fulfill certain professional obligations: she must use her telepathy to find a missing vampire. Along the way she has quite a time with the frightening Fellowship of the Sun church and begins to more fully understand the ways in which Bill is not human. She meets some shapeshifters, ends up in the hospital again, and manages to get home in time for a football game and a hasty resolution to that co-worker's murder.

This was a very strangely paced and organized book. Now, granted, I may feel that way because I've just finished watching season 1 of True Blood (which I plan to get to in another post). For 75% of the novel, Sookie is in Dallas, which means the only familiar characters she is interacting with are Bill and charismatic vampire leader Eric. True Blood regulars Jason and Sam are barely on the radar. Not to mention the fact that the book opens with a murder, which could have propelled the story in and of itself, but instead is dropped as a plot until Sookie returns to Bon Temps in the last few chapters. I felt like the entire time Sookie was in Dallas, I was waiting for the story to get started, until I eventually realized that Dallas was the story (yes, the title should have been a clue). As far as stories go, it was okay, but I don't think it used the characters to their best advantage.

I still love the prim and plucky Sookie, but I felt the characterization faltered a bit in this one - again, this could be in comparison to the show. Bill came off as too possessive and controlling (shades of Edward Cullen, yuck) - I can't tell if this is because he's 150 years old, he's a vampire, or if he just has no idea when it is appropriate to give a lady topaz earrings. (Hint: always better to err on the side of not giving gifts to match the outfit in which your lady friend just survived a massacre. Chances are she's not wearing that dress again.)

Then there's the newly introduced Tara Thornton. Tara is possibly - probably - my favorite character on True Blood. There is a character by the same name in Living Dead in Dallas, but she's so far below Tara's level of awesomeness that they're really not comparable. Or if I were to compare them, it would just be to bemoan how lame book Tara is.

It will be interesting to see how much of this plot they use in season 2 of True Blood, and how much they'll go off in their own direction - I'll get to this more in the promised True Blood post. In the meantime, I have to say this has put a bit of a damper on me reading more Sookie Stackhouse books right away, but I'd be surprised if I didn't get to the next book eventually.

Up next: I've decided to go for the sequel to The Mysterious Benedict Society, which has been sitting on my shelves long enough.

Bleak House by Charles Dickens

"In the wicked days, my dears, of King Charles the First - I mean, of course, in the wicked days of the rebels who leagued themselves against that excellent King - Sir Morbury Dedlock was the owner of Chesney Wold. Whether there was any account of a ghost in the family before those days, I can't say. I should think it very likely indeed."

Mrs. Rouncewell holds this opinion, because she considers that a family of such antiquity and importance has a right to a ghost. She regards a ghost as one of the privileges of the upper classes; a genteel distinction to which common people have no claim.

-Bleak House

It's hard to know where to begin with Bleak House, to even choose a proper quotation to illustrate it. As I was reading, I tried to remember page numbers of particularly good passages, but I've ended up with more than I need. (As opposed to times when I've halfheartedly leafed through a book to find anything worth quoting.) I may sneak another quotation in at the end.

Bleak House is the story of a young woman. No, a ludicrously complicated court case. A woman troubled by a ghost. A man troubled by the east wind. Marriage. Death. Love. Spontaneous combustion.

Let's start with the young woman. Her name is Esther Summerson. When we first meet her, she tells us of her childhood: born out of wedlock and raised by a staunchly religious woman, a combination that turns out about as well as you might expect. Fortunately for Esther, provisions are made for her after the death of her guardian, and they eventually lead her to the home of John Jarndyce.

Mr. Jarndyce is warm and kind, almost absurdly modest about taking Esther in to live as a companion to an orphaned young cousin of his, Ada Clare. Mr. Jarndyce, Ada, and their other cousin, Richard Carstone, are also embroiled in Jarndyce and Jarndyce, a lawsuit over a contested will, the complexity and duration of which has left it a joke in the eyes of the law. Mr. Jarndyce, however, takes it seriously enough to try to avoid it entirely: Jarndyce and Jarndyce has been the ruin of many a man.

What of that woman who hears a ghostly footfall outside her bedroom window? That would be Lady Dedlock. She's beautiful and haughty, the talk of all society. She doesn't care much for that, or for anything, really. So it comes as quite a surprise when she swoons at the sight of some legal papers (she is also a party in Jarndyce and Jarndyce, naturally) in the possession of her husband's lawyer, the relentless and sinister Mr. Tulkinghorn. What could cause a lady of such renowned composure to give way like that, the reader may wonder. Mr. Tulkinghorn wants to know as well, and his investigation sets into a motion a chain of events that even he could not anticipate.

I could do plot summary for ages, trying to set up some of the dozens of characters that populate Bleak House, but I'm going to move on. I've always enjoyed Dickens, but it wasn't until last summer that I picked up Bleak House. I'd been put off by the name, I suppose. Sounded like a bit of a bummer.

Bleak House is actually the name of Mr. Jarndyce's home, though there's no explanation as to how he (or his family) came to choose such an inhospitable name. You could probably also argue that the title could refer less literally to some of the less pleasant abodes we see in the novel. However, I just want to assure you that it's not 800 pages of misery. There are sad passages, without question, but there are also hopeful ones, even funny ones.

I absolutely fell in love with Bleak House last summer, and watched the wonderful miniseries shortly thereafter. Bleak House basically goes against a lot of what I've posted about summer reading, and it's certainly pretty heavy for your beach bag, but talk about storytelling. I think the reason I felt the impetus to reread it this summer was that it's just so good that I knew it would transport me away from what was otherwise a somewhat stressful time.

Speaking of good, I want to get in a few more words about Esther Summerson, as she is our heroine. I love Esther. She is absolutely good without being overly perfect or one-dimensional. Yes, everyone who meets her, loves her - but you can't help but see why*. Esther is not just passively good, she's actively good, and I think that makes all the difference. She will take in a sick urchin off the streets because it's the right thing to do, even if she endangers herself in doing so. She will travel to reason with Richard when he continues along his misguided path further and further into the snarled workings of Jarndyce and Jarndyce. And towards the close of the novel, she will make another, far more harrowing journey to seek out someone she loves.

What am I leaving out? The amusing declarations and legalese of Mr. Guppy, as well as his hilarious mother. The Growlery. That elderly child, Harold Skimpole. Mr. Smallweed and his brimstone magpie of a wife. Yes, at this point I'm just putting in all the Dickensian phrasing that I find memorable.

"It was a troubled dream?" said Richard, clasping both my guardian's hands eagerly.
"Nothing more, Rick; nothing more."
"And you, being a good man, can pass it as such, and forgive and pity the dreamer, and be lenient and encouraging when he wakes?"
"Indeed I can. What am I but another dreamer, Rick?"
"I will begin the world!" said Richard, with a light in his eyes.

Oh, Dickens. I'm not sure, but I'm going to put this out there: Bleak House might be my favorite novel, ever. How's that for a recommendation?

Up next: Well, I actually finished Bleak House a few days ago, but I hadn't had enough time to write. So, in the meantime, I've already finished up the 2nd Sookie Stackhouse book, and I expect to be back to write about that shortly. My next move after that is undecided - I have a lot of choices, hooray.

*Apparently you can. After posting this, I finally read the introduction to my edition of Bleak House, and found that many people do not share my opinion of Esther. To which I say: whatever. I think it's refreshing to have a woman who is good and earnest, not to mention resilient. I'm so tired of jaded characters.

I Want To Read: Drood

I was reading Bleak House on the train the other day, as I do, when the man sitting next to me commented on it. Nothing particularly profound - "Great book," I believe he said. I agreed. We didn't settle into a conversation, mostly because I don't think he intended to really interrupt my reading of said-great book, and because I was inclined to keep reading as well. Also, this is New York City. I think the gruff, closed-off attitude is overhyped, but small talk on the train isn't terribly common, either. (This man had luggage, which undoubtedly was filled with awesome books.)

Anyway, as the train approached this man's stop, he mentioned that I should read Drood, which he praised highly. As I like to think someone who appreciates Bleak House knows his stuff, and because I wanted to read Drood anyway, I think this sounds like a fine suggestion.

Although I don't do a very good job keeping up with modern fiction, I read a great review of Drood (by Dan Simmons, for the record) a few months back and title stuck in my head. I mean, Dickens? Good. Mystery? Good. Great review? Well, good, hopefully.

It seems like it could be helpful/interesting to read Dickens's The Mystery of Edwin Drood first, but I think I'm going to find it very hard to get completely invested in a story without an end. Terribly frustrating. Drood, however, is 100% complete is far as I know, which is certainly another point in its favor.

I'm in the home stretch on Bleak House: 150 pages to go; I anticipate I'll be back to write about it later this week.

100 Best Beach Books from NPR

It's amazing how quickly summer is flying by. If you're still looking for a beach read: well, a) I'm jealous, but b) NPR is back with more ideas, ranging from classics to Oprah picks (and at least one, East of Eden, which is both).

Audience Picks: 100 Best Beach Books Ever

I've read 43, I believe (I can't recall if I've read Cat's Cradle, so that's going down as a "no"). May I make some suggestions?

-Old Man in the Sea is not a beach read. Just because it has sea in the title, it doesn't make it so.
-I read She's Come Undone in high school. I thought it was wildly depressing. Not exactly what I'm looking for at the beach.
-Twilight only if you're massively desperate. Really.

Of the list, I think my top five to take to the beach would be Bridget Jones's Diary, The Princess Bride, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, One for the Money, and Dracula. I don't know about you, but I get sleepy and relaxed at the beach. I need something that's not too think-y. (Dracula slides by because it's pretty engrossing). I mean, I could barely follow Lolita as it was. Honestly, people.

Bleak House update: About 300 more pages to go. So many things are on the verge of coming together!