Some of you know me from life; many of you don't (unless my suspicions are correct and my mom is the only one reading my palaver). But before we move forward in our book-related relationship, I have something to tell you . . . something awful.
Today, I was going through my shelves and making a list of books I own but have yet to read (for the love of Ernest Hemingway, WHY can't I stop buying books?). In the midst of my endeavors, I was confronted by some books in my collection that offend my literary sensibilities.
Every reader has these books. You know, the ones you keep on the bottom shelf and hope visitors don't notice and always mean to get rid of but never do because you subconsciously intend to read (or reread!) them even though they remind you of your SECRET SHAME.
Embarrassing books: I has them. Behold!
If you need me, I'll be huddled in the corner hugging my copy of To Kill a Mockingbird.