I started reading The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao the other night (for book club,) and I was having a really difficult time with it. There was something about the book that made me feel like I was fighting it. I realized, as a took a break to make a cup of tea, that it is the first book that I have read in months that hasn't either been written in 19th century England or is about 19th century England.
Of course my brain was having problems processing: it was operating a hundred years out of its normal mode! Clearly I was not in the best zone for reading about 20th century New Jersey and Dominican Republic.
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