Read A Thousand Splendid Suns for my (gasp!) book club. I'm glad, too, because I don't think I would have had I not been forced to, and it's quite good if predictable in places and very much a part of the war-survivor genre (it would rest comfortably in a shelf full of Holocaust survival novels). But, despite the fact that I cried like a little girl for the last 100 pages, it could have ended far sadder. If it had been a European book, no one would have managed a happy ending and at least two more protagonists would have died.
I'm glad it's not a European novel.
I had a dream last night that my family visited me in LA and wanted to make tuna casserole at their hotel and I suggested going to Beverly Hills or bowling instead. And then I had to stop my car in front of these train tracks, and I crossed to the other side (I think I'm forgetting the most important part of this dream, by the way, which was most definitely horror-related) and was talking to someone when I realized it was night and my car lights might not be on. So I called back to my stepdad and heard a crunch at the same time, so I ran back over the tracks (and wouldn't let the little girl who was wandering around cross the tracks in case there was another train), but this other car had actually hit the car behind us, which was parked sideways in the middle of the street and was a really nice Adidas-looking car and had my coaches in it. What sport these coaches were in charge of is beyond me, but they were from another part of the dream (the important part), and I was mighty relieved. Also, at some point, I saw an ad where Jessica Simpson had not only dyed her hair dark brown, but had adopted an intelligent, sophisticated new voice. That's all I remember right now.
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