Mother's Day and my charming, thoughtful husband presents me with a new book. A book written by someone around our age. I ask him about it and he's surprised I've not seen reviews. He's seen it reviewed all around the traps, but me, nope, but I'm interested. I like reading things that are by our generation's writers. Jonathon Safran Foer's 'Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close' is absolutely in my top reads. You dream a dream, the dream comes true, that must be an amazing feeling. If you've read it, please tell me - tell me someone else has read it. I need a support group.
After a few pages I asked Matt if he'd read any of it. Nope. I was a little shocked, I must say. But I kept reading, intrigued.
I'm no prude, but my wordy, it very nearly made me faint this morning with its graphic detail. I wish I was kidding (I still feel a little off-colour now), but all of a sudden I felt that tell-tale nausea, started seeing stars, sweating, and had to sit down very quickly. My lips drained of any colour, I hoped Matt would magically reappear from work and take care of the smalls while I convalesced.
The graphic nature of the book - well my dear husband had no clue! My children had to fend for themselves while I sat on the cool of the tiles. I've never had my stomach turned by any reading matter. Even now I don't know if I can go back to it.
Have you ever had an adverse effects to reading?
