Booky Bitch

So I've found one little thing that makes me like LuPone. On the Gypsy CD during Smile Girls - the first time she says, "Smile Marjorie Maaaaayyyy." It's pretty nifty.



So if I'm going to be a writer (and my SAT results tell me I am) I need to start talking about books, right? Of course right. And not books like OMG THE BOOK OF IN THE HEIGHTS SUX. So here's a list of what I read this summer.



The Bell Jar - Plath

Jazz - Toni Morrison

American Eve - Paula Uruburu

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings - Maya Angelou

Johnny Panic and the Bible of Dreams - Plath

The Collected Poems - Plath

Night - Elie Wiesel



So yeah. I love Plath, obviously. Daddy is my new favorite poem. American Eve was about Evelyn Nesbit, The Bell Jar was The Bell Jar and Jazz was good but Beloved It Ain't. But Night. Oh, Lord, shall I talk about Night. I bought it at the Lower East Side Tenement Museum. As I was handing it to the cashier the guy behind me said, "You ever read Night before? You won't be the same after you do." Trust me. I needed the warning; it's about the Holocaust. I started reading it when I was sitting on a bench on Orchard Street, and I came to a part about throwing infants into the air for target practice. I thought to myself, "What the hell did I just get myself into?" and I stuffed the book in my bag and did not open it again until seven hours later, when I was sitting waiting for Night Music to begin. And I read it. And at intermission I read some more. And more at the stage door. And some more on the ride home, when I finished it. It is a short book and finishing it was one of the hardest things I've ever done. It is terrifying. It didn't bring me to tears, but it did make me shake like a scared child.

I don't like this book. No human being on the planet should "like" this book. I don't know what it says about you if you do. But I am deeply, deeply grateful that it was written and that I had a chance to read it. If you've never done it, do it now.