The sound of a happier person reading.
Good old Bill Bryson.

Good old Bookslut.

Yesterday they were really on over at the Bookslut Blog (although this is no surprise; they are usually on, they know their book stuff, and Michael Schaub is one of those disgustingly funny people* that I wish I could be, or that I would have had a crush on in high school, although if he noticed me at all, it would be as "just friends.").

But yesterday Jessa Crispin nicely summed up my own attitude towards fiction and nonfiction about World War II:

"I was hoping this essay in the TLS about contemporary writers setting novels during WWI and WWII would delve more deeply into why it's such a popular choice. I think people were actually excited when Michael Chabon announced he was working on a TV show about 'magicians and Hitler.' My first thought was, give it a fucking rest."


*This is one of his posts this morning: "'I'm going to publicly respond to this bad review of my book. What's the worst that could happen?"' is the new "I'm going to have unprotected sex with every stranger at this meth orgy. What's the worst that could happen?" Just don't do it, kids."