My own welcome to myself

It's true as they say. I do read an awful lot. More than most people I know. (Except from Bell. Possibly. I'd say it's a pretty tight race.) And because of that the literary whizz-woman herself has invited me to join this honourable operation. I can't promise to keep up to her standards, and I won't, but I'll share some thoughts with y'all, and hopefully you'll get something out of it.
(Provided, of course, that you're not plain dumb by nature and prefer, let's say, Stephanie Meyer to Poe. If that's the case, please ignore my posts.)


This year's literature so far:

Filip Hammar and Fredrik Wikingsson: Tårtgeneralen
Belle De Jour: The Intimate Adventures of a London Call Girl
Yan Martell: Life of Pi
William Shakespeare: Romeo and Juliet, Sonnets to Sundry Notes of Music, The Phoenix and the Turtle
J.K. Rowling: Tales of Beedle The Bard
Selma Lagerlöf: Löwensköldska Ringen, Charlotte Löwensköld
Gunnar Ardelius: Jag Behöver Dig Mer Än Jag Älskar Dig Och Jag Älskar Dig Så Himla Mycket
Jon Ronson: The Men Who Stare At Goats


I don't think I'll be writing any reviews on any of these books. Maybe later. My first review will be on The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde as soon as I finish it.

//A.