Here’s hoping you don’t really hate anyone.
But let’s assume you have a “strong dislike” for someone in your life. And let’s further assume that this person recently asked you for a book recommendation.
You, the holder of all book-related wisdom, have a decision to make. Do you give them an honest recommendation, or is this your chance for revenge?
If you’d like to give them the old literary screw job, then I’m here to help.
Here are 9 book recommendations for people you hate:
Here’s some good news if you’re single, or even if you want to improve communication in your marriage.
A new study from the New School For Social Research in New York says that reading literary fiction can help you interpret people’s emotions.
In other words, you can finally figure out what your girlfriend or boyfriend or husband or spouse or, you get the idea, is thinking!
Here’s how the study’s author, David Kidd, explains it according to Men’s Health Magazine:
Let’s get this out of the way. Today’s post is horribly clichéd.
What I’ve done here today is adapt the easy-to-write, easy-to-read, seasonally relevant Buzz Feedish approach to content. I might as well have posted a photo of 10 famous authors with the question “Hot or not?” [makes reference in notebook for future post]
Now, that’s out of the way, so let’s embrace the clichéd post.
Here are 10 book-related opinions. Below each opinion, I’ve asked the question, “Trick or treat?” then answered whether or not I think the opinion is a “trick” (bad) or a “treat” (good)?
Get it? It’s Halloween! And, look at me, I’m making a funny “trick or treat?” clever post! On Halloween! I kill myself!
On with it:
If you can say one thing about avid readers, it’s this: We’re a weird lot.
Every reader is unique. Many of us can be rather eccentric. And some of us can be just plain goofy.
So who are we?
Last year, The Atlantic Wire compiled a list of the many types of book readers. Inspired by that piece, I thought I’d have a little fun.
So I sat down, dug in, thought about all my reading experiences, and these are 8 types of readers I could think of:
I don’t mean to be that guy. But I just can’t help it—I’m that guy.
I’m the guy who doesn’t use e-readers. I know that makes me a literary old fogie—part of a dying breed that includes snobby lit professors and hipster independent bookstore owners.
But it’s true.
Now, before you berate me for being elitist and antiquated and the most horrible human on earth, let me say this:
If you like e-readers, I won’t judge you. I really won’t. It’s your literary life, my friend. You live it like you need to live it. I understand why you like them, so more power to you.
But me? I’m not an e-reader guy.
That is, I’m not an e-reader guy until the following things happen.
My mom has a room in her house that is full of books.
I’m not exaggerating when I say an entire wall in that room has shelves that are filled with novels, memoirs, and volumes and volumes of books.
She loves westerns. I swear there must be 80 Louis L’amour westerns on those shelves. I’m not sure if Louis wrote that many books, but I’d wager that she has most, if not all, his novels.
If books were edible, my mom’s house would be a great place to go to during the zombie apocalypse. If you’re like me, and might prefer books to food, her house might be a great place to go during a zombie apocalypse anyway.
The topic of censorship always gets me worked up. We’ve talked about it a lot on 101 Books (here, here and here).
The idea of “banned” books does get a little overplayed. If your local library or school system “bans” a book, then all you have to do is order it from Amazon. It’s not like books get universally banned these days.
All that to say I love this social experiment.
Scott Dimarco is the director of a library at Mansfield University in Pennsylvania. Recently, in the Huffington Post, Dimarco explains how he and a few other librarians took part in a clever experiment with censorship. He explains how it got started:
I’ve talked a good bit about opening lines on this blog (here, here, and here, for instance). I love the opening lines of novels so much that I even include them in all of my reviews.
To this point, my favorite opening line is from The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood.
Recently, I had a stretch of a couple of stressful days.
Nothing life-changing or devastating, but enough to keep my mind occupied for most of the day. I had problems focusing on my job.
Everything worked out okay. But, for a day or two, I was a ball of stress—and, as a result, my reading suffered.
In fact, I didn’t read at all for about two or three days. At first, I didn’t even notice because I was busy taking care of life things.
It’s been more than two years since I undertook the most daunting literary experience I’ve gone through on 101 Books.
Was it Infinite Jest? A daunting experience, indeed. Nope. Was it my year-long read of A Dance To The Music Of Time? That was also brutal. But, no, that’s not it either.
My most daunting experience since starting 101 Books has been reading Judy Blume’s Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret. That book challenged this 37-year-old man in ways I never knew I could be challenged.
Let’s just briefly recap one of the critical passages from Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret: