When I started writing short fiction, I only wanted to read short stories. I browsed the library shelves to bring home anthologies where I discovered wonderful, new-to-me, authors—William Gay, Lorrie Moore, Anne Enright—then found their own collections and read them, cover to cover. I bought Canadian literary journals—Room, Prism, and others, coast to coast. That was an adventure, an education, and it continues…
I recently started to read novels again, Richard Ford’s Canada, The Book Thief by Marcus Zusac, and Elena Ferrante. My son, Gabriel, was reading My Brilliant Friend while we were travelling together in Mexico last month and I remembered Ferrante’s name mentioned in my writing group. I had a sample of the book in my I-pad library, read the bit, and bought the rest. I am loving the Ferrante and glad there are four in the series so I get to be with her for awhile. I’ve requested the other books from the library so I can read them in hard copy; tactile, sensory.
I’m also reading a four volume boxed set of The Paris Review author interviews and rereading the glorious prose of Heather O’Neill.
Photo by Flickr user giulia