68 of 75; or, Dark times

OK, wow. Been a while.

So ... I kind of got swept up in politics, and, in common with other registered voters, my reading started to revolve around articles posted on Facebook. After a while, I smartened up and started ignoring articles from sites like HillaryClintonIsGod.co and the like, and stuck to stories from The Atlantic, The New York Times, The Washington Post, The New Yorker, etc. Mainstream media for the win! Even if my candidate lost, at least I wasn't wasting too many brain cells on junk news sites.

(Here's a tip for how to avoid seeing them—turn down the volume on those one or two people you know who share EVERYTHING to Facebook. Or find candidates from the opposing party and like their pages. This will give Facebook's algorhythm a much-deserved kick in the pants.)

But hey, good thing I read a book about Donald Trump last May! Because it's always best to be prepared.

I was going to paste in the most recently-updated version of my list, but it would be more efficient to say that I read Henry IV, Part I, and Girl, Interrupted, and am about 100 pages into Backlash. Because a long feminist tome doesn't make me feel at all ranty at the moment, no ma'am.

I also read—and see whether you can tell what I read before and after the election:

The Casino: A Century of Elegance, by Cecilia ... (a history of a private club in Chicago which for mysterious reasons has accepted me as a member.)

The Old Curiosity Shop, by Charles Dickens

The Pickwick Papers, by Charles Dickens

The Big Sleep, by Raymond Chandler

Farewell my Lovely, by Raymond Chandler

The Third Man, by Graham Greene

Jar City and The Silence of the Grave, by Arnaldur Indriðason 

Mr. Kiss and Tell: Veronica Mars, Book II, by Rob Lowe and 

Born Standing Up: A Comic's Life, by Steve Martin

If you guessed that I threw myself down a deep well of noir murder mysteries after Hillary lost---ding ding ding! You're absolutely correct.

All told, I've read 68 of my 75 books. Which would be sort of impressive ... except the last eight were audiobooks. Come on, people—it's too much to expect me to turn actual pages.