Leave it to Margaret Atwood to totally annihilate my momentum. This is the third Atwood book I've started and attempted to muddle through and I guess I am just a bad feminist reader because damn if her books don't make me want to rip my hair out. It's her bizarre mixture of science-fiction futuristic societies blended with endless descriptions of frail, powdery, paper-thin old lady skin that makes me want to gouge my eyes out.
So I put The Blind Assassin down and have been pouting ever since. I hate not finishing a book. I've done a ton of first-page hopping in the past month because when I give up on a book, I become ravenous for others, but I can't commit to any.
It's seriously like getting over a failed relationship for me. After ditching a book I really had hoped would be a great read for me, I flit from one book to another, reading a page or two to see if it will appease me (generally fluffy chick lit in this situation) in my disappointed state. This time, though, I attempted to flit from Booker winner to Booker winner and that is just a brain-fuck; too deep, too intense, too demanding when I'm simply looking for a rebound from a bad read.
I've finally settled on Ami McKay's The Birth House, which is essentially the story of a midwife-in-training dealing with the infiltration of modern medicine and a male obstetrician in her domain.
It is a wonderful mix of a girly drama and historical fiction. Thus far I am enjoying it immensely, as it's feeding my "rebound" need as well as offering some actual literary quality, as opposed to my usual Bridget Jones-y type selections when in this frame of mind.
I have many thoughts on the book itself and the topic it covers, but I think I'll save it until I'm farther into the book.