Island Beneath the Sea -- Isabel Allende

Augusten Burroughs -- Magical Thinking

I have mixed feelings about Augusten, but I think that's because I always pick up his books in thrift stores, so I don't go into reading with any 'preciousness' that might be needed to start out as forgiving of an author's grittiness.   There's nothing to forgive, he is lovely and so open and honest about his faults and history, ugliness and all; but fit some reason it took me a couple of books to feel this way.  I can't remember what else I read of his, but I think it had a black cover and was also a collection of stories.  I think I had a prejudice against him in reading that book because I thought he was the son of William Burroughs and so found him talentless by comparison. 
Now I realise he's somewhat of a mix of the gentlemen farmers' whose names escape me, and David Sedaris, so that makes him lovable.  Unfortunately, there's only one story that sticks in my head from this book and that's not even his story.  Apparently some old lady on the street told him that her mother used to give her Dr. Pepper enemas and then make her drink the liquid.  I can't imagine the process or why she didn't figure out how to get adopted and now it's stuck in my head. 
I haven't been keeping track of all the books I've read since I got back to California; hopefully I'll be better now.

Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell -- Susana Clarke

I thought this book was by Neil Gaiman, and happily picked it up from oddesy. Turns out it's by Susana Clarke, with an intro by Gaiman.  So far, the intro is the best part, but the reviews all say that even though this book is 800 pages long, it leaves you hungry for another 800.  The beginning is kind of weak so far, and in trying to find a book to take with me to Paris and Seattle.  I'm leaving poros tomorrow, so, if this doesn't get better soon, I'll have to leave it till next year. 

The Fourth Hand -- John Irving

This was the last book my dad read.  His bookmark was still in it when i picked it to to read again, with this knowledge to completely skew my opinion of it.  I'm writing this 6 months later and remembering the struggle i had with reading past where he read and feeling it was unfair, but deciding i was finishing it for/with him.  After my dad died i found hearts everywhere, and now, a few seconds after starting to write this, i find a heart in the tile near me to remind me that he is still finishing The Story with me <3

The Bolter -- Frances Osborne

The idea of this book is fun, but a hundred pages is, I realize that there really no plot. I feel halfway inclined to finish it because of the glowing reviews, but there's so much information about random people, that it comes across as a history book written by someone with little skill for creating a page turner.  Don't remember if it affected my dreams, I gave it up a few days ago when I was having nightmares about soldiers shooting each other point blank in a storm.  Both of the sons in this book died around 30 and were soldiers, but there wasn't much of that story told.

Underworld -- Don DeLillo

So, I remember that Ian's best friend, Julian, had given him this book for his birthday back in 99 or 00.  He was really mad because he doesn't read, and thought it was inconsiderate, considering that Julian should have known better. Ian was the king of well thought out gifts.  Julian insisted that if he were to read one book, it should be this. So I read it. Or at least, i started to.  I was also doing my Master's at the time, so i didn't have so much time to devote to it, and it really is a brick of a book.  Anyways, i remember really enjoying it and bring annoyed that Ian wouldn't let me take it back to Greece with me because it had been a birthday present, even if he wasn't going to read it.  Finding it at The Odyssey, I remembered my desire to finish it, but to my dismay, in finding it a real struggle.  It starts off with baseball in Golden Age America, and that's where I'm stuck.  I don't think I will haul it back to California with me next week, it really is a brick of a book.  I'll try again next year.  Def. didn't affect my dreams. 

The Riddle and The Knight -- Giles Milton

I found this book at a restaurant on a beach in Koh Samui where I had a Greek Salad.  It's a really interesting true story about a guy searching for the true story of a knight who claimed to have travelled the world, discovering bizarre creatures and unheard of lands.  Several towns claimed themselves as where he was born or where he died and left his bones. It turns out he may have just been a drunken liar. I remember the drawings in this book as particularly cool linocuts from the original book that he published about his travels, of fat, hairy one eyed creatures and exotically loose women.  I remember the place I found this book every time I think of the story, it was a huge bungalow under the stars and I wanted to stay there all night; it was so warm and lovely, but a huge family came and took up so much space with their yelling kids that I was forced to go back to my hotel that had a thin pool that ran in between the two-storied rooms.  I swam down to the very end and discovered that all of the rooms were empty, save one nearest to mine, and the very end of the pool was in complete darkness and bats were swooping over it to drink.  The other end of the pool stopped right at the street, just a foot or two above eye level, where I could watch locals and tourists wandering by the neon signs for spas where the fish eat your dead skin.