buried in bookdom

I'd heard some good about Tom Perrotta's Little Children over at various book blogs and site I read and was delighted to find a copy at R's friend's house in Ann Arbor. As we were to be there for several days, I figured I'd be able to finish it before we left for the next leg of the road trip.

I was right. It was relatively easy reading. Funny in places and a little disturbing in others.

Surburbia to me always meant cookie-cutter homes, quiet neighbourhoods where you rarely hear sirens blaring like you do in the cities. Life in surburbia is meant to be simple, isn't it?

Not so for Perrotta's families in this rather scathing book where he reveals secrets, hidden desires and exposes the superficiality of the suburbian life.


And then, intrigued by Tom Perrotta's writing, I found a copy of his Joe College at the Champaign library.

on a non-book note, I love being in Illinois and listening to Sufjan Steven's Illinois

Once again, Perrotta brings in a varied cast of characters and although part of it is set in Yale in the 80s, he once again takes it home to the suburbs, where the main character, Danny, comes from. Unlike most other college students though, Danny heads home on vacation to work his dad's lunch truck, known as the Roach Coach.

It was pretty entertaining but I still preferred Little Children.



And then it was on to Isabel Allende's Aphrodite, a truly intriguing book, which showcases her passion for food and her interest in aphrodisiacs.

I loved her chatty, conversational style and the way she brings in references from history, from literature and throws in various recipes, personal anecdotes and tips.



While devouring Aphrodite, my nose also could be found in The History of Love by Nicole Krauss, a beautiful novel about loss and love.

Krauss, by the way, is married to Jonathan Safran Foer.

NY Magazine has an interesting article about her, although having just read the novel I'm a bit late coming to this article written in 2005.