"I want you to draw me a crocodile!"

While perusing the airport selection in January I noticed that James Franco had written a book. I filed this information under my mental list of things to borrow from the library (James! Franco! Wrote! A! Book!) and went on to purchase Atlas Shrugged (which I am now 1/3 of the way through and despite the slow progress, I am loving) and Galapagos (which I have not started but I expect to love).

I am sad to report that I didn't love Palo Alto: Stories. It read like a mash-up of Gummo and Mallrats. (If that bears no meaning to you, think middle class kids setting neighborhood cats on fire... Yuh-huh.) That said, I have to admire how he crafted the stories. As other critics have noted, the stories don't really wrap up. I think that was the intent. And it really did feel like they were written by bored suburban teenagers and each one made me very, extremely, incredibly, insert-other-adverb-here, uncomfortable. There is something to be said for that, as well as the fact that I actually read every story despite my discomfort (but I don't want to think about what's to be said about that).

To counterbalance this barrage of negativity, I continued plowing through Atlas Shrugged, and also read this winner which I ran across at Powell's in October and decided I needed in my life, only not at that time, but in February. And I made it halfway through a well-intended child's birthday present which I will talk about in my March book wrap-up.

OK, goal #2... it's slow going but I'm getting there.