Ever since I started working in publishing, I've found myself picking up books, reading 20 pages or so, and putting them down indefinitely. If a book doesn't grab me, I just simply don't force myself to finish it. It could mean I have a tragically short attention span, a lack of patience, or an extreme form of literary pickiness. That said, it's rare that I start reading something and compulsively turn the pages from start to finish. But last Friday, during a trip to Strand, I fell in love. The object of my book-lust? Diane Middlebrook's Her Husband: Hughes and Plath, a Marriage. I bought it and brought it with me everywhere over the weekend...including a pretty luxe party in TriBeCa on Saturday night, where I proceeded to--accidentally--leave the book behind. When I told our director, Diane, about it, she replied: "You left it on the bed in the coatroom, right? We've all been there." She was right. And trust me, the replacement copy I ordered from Amazon can't come quickly enough. Ever lost a book you were absolutely loving?

Earlier this summer I read This Child Will be Great, the Ellen Sirleaf-Johnson biography and couldn't put it down. Everyone I told about it could not believe it because I never rave about books and very rarely read non-fiction.
Posted by: Jennifer W. | November 18, 2009 at 04:15 PM