Before I take the plunge into A Game of Thrones and disappear for however long it takes to plow through that series, I thought I'd play a quick game of catch up and try to remember the last few books I read in 2011.
The Last Werewolf: This was a juicy read, if gory at times. If you're able to suck it up and read about killing and eating humans every 200 pages or so, this is a worthy read. It's about a 200 year old misanthropic werewolf in present day who finds out he is officially the last living werewolf on earth. I found it fascinating to read a first person narrative told from the perspective of a (mostly likable) villain. It's an epic adventure with quality (read: Adult) writing style. Also, I totally smell a sequel.
At Home: Major bore. Bill Bryson seems like a charming man but DUDE. This was a book club pick that I couldn't finish. Every time I picked it up I had flashbacks to 1997 during my freshman year of college when my roommate Maggie and I would need to take official nap breaks during reading assignments. This book induced many a nap break before I gave up on it.
An Echo in the Bone: After reading
A Breath of Snow and Ashes (the 6th book in the Outlander series) I took a year or two long break. Then I recently saw An Echo in the Bone on the Buy 2, get 1 free table at Barnes and Noble and I snatched it up. It had been so long since reading the previous book that I had a hard time remembering some of the secondary characters, but eventually I fell back into the easy rhythm of Diana Gabaldon. I feel sad that Jamie and Claire are getting old, but am starting to find my groove with Brianna and Roger, who I assume are going to start playing a more major role in the next book. Thumbs up Diana. And way to leave us hanging until 2013 for book number 8. Rude.
Open: Andre Agassi's autobiography. Jeff got this book for his birthday and I read it to kill time, assuming it would be snoozeville but I loved it. Totally addictive and fascinating, despite my utter ignorance of tennis. This made me think I should be reading more autobiographies.
No Great Mischief: Boring. A little interesting, but mostly boring. I couldn't quite finish this book about sad Scottish immigrants living in Canada.
The Last Werewolf: This was a juicy read, if gory at times. If you're able to suck it up and read about killing and eating humans every 200 pages or so, this is a worthy read. It's about a 200 year old misanthropic werewolf in present day who finds out he is officially the last living werewolf on earth. I found it fascinating to read a first person narrative told from the perspective of a (mostly likable) villain. It's an epic adventure with quality (read: Adult) writing style. Also, I totally smell a sequel. 
Open: Andre Agassi's autobiography. Jeff got this book for his birthday and I read it to kill time, assuming it would be snoozeville but I loved it. Totally addictive and fascinating, despite my utter ignorance of tennis. This made me think I should be reading more autobiographies.
