Meanwhile, there are much more serious works of literature out there that I've snubbed, or not much liked at all. For example, a few years back, I read American Rust, by Philipp Meyer, and--didn't get it. Actually, I liked the writing style that many people objected to, and even thought the author captured the aura of western Pennsylvania (the little I've of seen it). But--I simply failed to gain insight into the characters and thought the plot was an iffy drag. I'm thinking of this right now because Philipp Meyer has a new book, too--a serious one that I might really like--and because I feel like a total zero for not having the majority opinion about that first tome, which is a silly way to feel, but there it is.
Oh, but wait, hold on: the last book in the All Souls Trilogy, The Book of Life, by Deborah Harkness, is coming out in July, and before that, Cormoran Strike and his smart assistant Robin Ellacott are back for J.K. Rowling's second detective novel, The Silkworm. Major distractions will forbid the reading of too many older books this summer, for sure.
No, it's not ruffled or plaid. I'm not out of my mind, just a wee bit self-conscious in my old age.