And the first book?
Dancing Girls by Margaret Atwood.
It’s a collection of short stories and I really disliked the first couple stories. Actually, I didn’t like most of the book. (The characters didn’t seem likable in any way. They seemed like bitches. There wasn’t a back story that made me feel like I understood why they were so suspicious/bitter/angry/bored. They were just awful people.) The last couple stories were ok, though.
I was glad to finish it. It felt like required reading for a college literature course. There was some kind of merit to them, but I couldn’t get into them; I couldn’t enjoy them on any personal level. The early ones felt too “stream of consciousness”-y and, like I said, the characters were just not interesting, personal or likable. Maybe if each one had their own book, a story that explained them before we dove into their mind. That wasn’t the case, though… these were short stories, so the author needs to be speedy about the character development.
Eh. Anyway, I’ve moved onto Juliet, Naked by Nick Hornby. I think I’ll like this one a bit more.