Ann Patchett

I know. Everyone loves Ann Patchett. Everyone I know, that is. So I tried her.
First, I made it through Bel Canto. A novel in which a bunch of terrorists fall in love with an opera singer. I have trouble with this, but I admired her ability to keep telling the unlikely tale ad nauseum. It was nice to like terrorists so much. But these were all accidental terrorists. Terrorists who swoon over opera! So lovable. So sweet. It was so sad when they all died!
So then I read State of Wonder. I was told it's the next best thing. I would like to re-title the book, Menstruation Everlasting. I mean, I admit I was almost okay with the novel until she started describing a bunch of wild women who eat bark by biting trees . . . and thus become eternally fertile. 70 year old women are pregnant! Imagine how much fun that would be!

I don't mean to suggest I don't like peculiar tales of wonder. I am a huge fan of Murakami, whom I find infinitely more believable than Ann Patchett.

Good books I've read recently include 4 Murakami novels
Lisa See's Dreams of Joy and Shanghai Girls
Nothing to Envy by Barbara Demick (fantastic book on North Korea)
Infidel and Nomad by Ayaan Hirsi Ali
Sea of Poppies by Amitav Gosh