So I was at the library the other day, officially for the kids to meet Brownie the Amazing Miniature Pony (who turned out to be, I kid you not, no taller than our very own dog... which I think means I win some kind of housekeeping award, considering our home is decent most of the time even while housing an animal who should apparently be living in a STALL) and I quickly grabbed a couple of novels for myself at random, as well as a CD of Elizabeth Berg's newest. I wouldn't ordinarily think to listen to an adult book in the car with the kids, but c'mon, it's Elizabeth Berg. How bad could it get?
Well, apparently I hit the most unsettling topics possible jackpot, because the Elizabeth Berg book unexpectedly led to a girl walking in on her mother swinging from a freaking rope in the garage (fortunately as soon as I realized what was happening I frantically slammed at the volume button until the CD player silenced, while meanwhile chattering loudly to the kids about Brownie the Amazing Miniature Pony.) Then the first book I cracked, Imperfect Birds by Anne Lamott, was just relentlessly depressing, what with its basic tailspin of parental delusion and teenage self destruction and drug/substance abuse the likes of which innocent little me has never imagined. (Did you know BLEACH apparently masks certain drugs in a pee test?!)
Finally, after skimming to the end of that one, I moved on to Every Last One by Anna Quindlen. Which is like a sucker punch to the gut if you, you know, have or plan to have a child, or a husband, or anyone you love in your life ever. I am not even kidding, it's like someone presented her with the writing prompt: "every woman's worst nightmare." And while it was admittedly well written and intensely captivating, it was just gut wrenching and miserable and had me staring weepily at my kids for the remainder of the day, hugging them to me so often they started pulling away and looking at me funny. I just... I don't feel I gained anything from reading it, despite it being, in a literary sense, excellent. I wish I could unread it.
So! I think for my next venture into entertainment I'll go rent Sophie's Choice. Might as well get it over with!
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8 comments:
oh sheesh... adding those to my lists of DO NOT READ.
What a bummer! You deserve some very light-hearted beach reads from here on out, right?
Time to watch a comedy or something!
that's a rough movie, too. ugh.
What about beach reads and light summer reading? Good grief, that is too much heavy! I think you struck out.
Oh, man, I loved Imperfect Birds, but found it anxiety-inducing as well. I kept telling myself "They live in San Fransisco. There are more drugs there than here." But actually, we probably have more dangerous stuff here (like meth). I appreciated that book, though, because I think that Anne Lamott writes about human relationships in such a REAL way, like I felt like I really KNOW those people.
Also, after a few days, the anxiety about raising teenagers passed. Hopeful it will for you, too!
So, wait. Bleach masks drug use? Doesn't that mean that you would have to INJEST the bleach? So you drink bleach to cover your drug use? Really, how does any of that ever sound like a good idea?!
Erm, do you have to drink the bleach? I am pretty sure that will mask a multitude of things, being that you would be dead.
Oh man. People are so dumb sometimes. WHY?
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