Jeremy here. (In non-literary news, Constantine was better than I thought it would be. Either this was a high point of Keanu's career or my expectations were so low I was bound to be pleased.)
1. Rebecca Godfrey, The Torn Skirt. Inputting Jesus Saves (see below) into Amazon netted me a bunch of Amazon recommendations which I got from the library, which unsurprisingly also netted me a bunch of novels about depressed druggie teens. I'm done with that now. Read Jesus Saves and then stop. 208 pgs.
2. Ann Patchett, Run. Much better. Over the course of 24 hours, a failed politician and his adopted sons deal with race, poverty, politics, and love in its infinite varieties. Patchett is a convincing and lyrical writer who is also very readable. 304 pgs.
3. Paul Auster, Moon Palace. I am now officially a Paul Auster fan after reading this and the New York Trilogy. Auster writes about storytelling and narrative within his fiction in a very different way than the in-your-face footnoted self-aware histrionics of more recent writers (which I also enjoy, don't get me wrong). The jacket cover described this as "modern sensibility in a nineteenth-century cover," which is a very nice way to say Auster deals with deep philosophical issues at the same time as writing a great story. After the painting trip into the desert, I actually gasped out loud. That's all I'll give away - read it for yourself. 320 pgs.
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