The Invisible Library

The doldrums are upon us and I’m hankering for a good, meaty novel that’s still fun to read, to get me through the long tepid winter. Any suggestions?

It doesn’t have to be high brow; I’m staring at the copy of Love In the Time of Cholera sitting beside my desk and wondering if Gabriel Garcia Marquez knows he’s taunting me. The genius bastard!

But nothing too light weight either. Any good middlebrow stuff on the radar that maybe I’ve missed? I’m not opposed to Serious Literature. Just because I rant and rave about science fiction all day long doesn’t mean I’m only interested in space ships and monsters. In fact, I’m kind of over space opera. Having recently read Lathe of Heaven for the first time, I’d love something that was as wild, woolly and still somehow down to Earth.

Does that even make sense? I mean, it’s about a guy whose dreams rewrite reality and so he’s afraid of falling asleep. Not exactly what you’d call realistic fiction but it’s written with such heart and respect for human dignity that it feels realer than most of the classic Serious Fiction.

And what’s the deal with serious Fiction? Why is it so serious? Must important thoughts about the human condition be bereft of the occasional fart joke or snarky aside? Maybe I should just read Jeeves and Wooster? I’ve been meaning to pick one up and see if it’s as good as everyone says. so much for the serious weight thing.