September Reading? Hardly.

Things have gotten a bit hectic around Casa de Nudell, so I didn’t read a single book cover to cover in September. What sealed the deal is that I played a deeply ironic joke on myself by starting an unabridged translation of Don Quixote. Mired somewhere in the middle, but before the second part, I am feeling every iota of the delusion, futility, and sardonic humor, but have not yet been able to extricate myself. I find myself wanting to read something lighter–at least physically–after this one, but we will see.