Kamala Harris Suspends Presidential Campaign

It’s too bad. She was one of my favorites (second to Warren) but it just doesn’t seem like her time this year. At least she remains a strong voice in the Senate.

Books I Read in November

18 more days before we officially hit winter and we’ve already had our first snow day. And November was one of the coldest I can remember. Great. Gonna need more vitamin d and I’ve already been using my SAD lamp. This winter is going to be rough.
Anyway, November was pretty shitty and I wasn’t that much in a reading mood. So a short list.

The New Annotated Frankenstein by Mary Shelley I read Frankenstein a few years back and had no idea how different the monster was in the book from the movie version. I’m enjoying reading the annotated versions of classics because we miss so much of the references that are just littered about these books which are difficult to pick up during a contemporary reading.

The Curse of the Blue Figurine by John Bellairs. The only reason why this was on my radar was because last month I finished the bio on Edward Gorey who had illustrated the cover to a few of Bellairs novels. I guess this would be considered a children’s or YA novel. And it was a fun little distraction to read during a shitty month.

The Terror by Dan Simmons. Damn. I always feel so stupid for stumbling across a masterpiece that was written years about but I just learned about. A historical fiction novel with an added horror element. This may be a contender for the best book I have read this year. I just started watching the tv series of it on Hulu which has an amazing cast but doesn’t seem to live up to the quality of Simmons’ writing style. (Although it’s probably more enjoyable if I hadn’t just finished reading the novel)

The Institute by Stephen King. What’s this? A novel by a local Maine author. Let’s give it a go. I mean, King always ropes you in with his style at this point. He’s amazing at building likable characters who you identify with immediately. This book was no different. The problem is that he has been so prolific and his body of work is so immense that it’s almost impossible for him to write a story now without drawing upon his own bibliography. I really enjoyed the beginning and then felt it get redundant during the middle. Halfway through I just wanted the book to be over already.