Okay Sarah,I am a radical, embittered undergraduate student in creative writing, emphasis on poetry (as you can tell, I have yet to master grammar). Lately I’ve been in need of a vision quest, something that allows me to change my outlook of the world while wearing Old Navy drawstring pajama pants. In short, I would like reading advice. A book that just might change my droll life.

Oy, that’s a tough one. I must confess that I read mostly non-fiction these days, so I don’t know if any of my recently-read titles will appeal to you, but I’ll give you the rundown and see if you find any of them appealing…

As Nature Made Him: The Boy Who Was Raised As A Girl, by John Colapinto. An excellent account of a reasonably notorious sex-reassignment case. The title really says it all. Sad to say, I saw the author on an “Oprah” rebroadcast late one night and headed to straight to Amazon to buy the book.

Whatever Happened To The Hall Of Fame?, by Bill James. James, a statistician, has written abstracts on baseball for years; he’s very funny. It does require a dedicated baseball fan to get through, though.

Homicide: A Year On The Killing Streets, by David Simon. The TV series is based in large part on this book. The writing isn’t so skilled, but it gets it done.

Newjack: Guarding Sing-Sing, by Ted Conover. The journalist’s account of his year undercover in Ossining State Prison. The prison-guard academy wouldn’t let Conover do a straight story, so he joined up as a prospective prison guard and then spent nearly a year on duty. It’s very well-written and entertaining.

The War Against Boys, by Christina Hoff Summers. Summers makes so many good points about American feminism, but this book basically rehashes a lot of the material from her previous book, Who Stole Feminism?, which I recommend highly.

Life The Movie, by Neal Gabler. It sounded a lot better on NPR, but it’s still an interesting look at the performance-oriented nature of American culture at the millennium.

Our Guys, by Bernard Lefkowitz. An exhaustive look into the Glen Ridge, NJ rape case (sensing a theme in my reading?). The subject matter is depressing and disgusting, but the book is insightful and well-crafted.

Me Talk Pretty One Day, by David Sedaris. Not as strong as his other work, I didn’t think, but still lovely.

The Reef, by Edith Wharton. If you don’t like Wharton – and I mean House Of Mirth Wharton, not Ethan Frome Wharton – you probably won’t like this. I’ve read it before, but I’ve given it another go because I like to study Wharton’s exactitude with the language.

American Rhapsody, by Joe Eszterhas. Possibly the worst book ever written. If you’d like to work up a righteous rage at the inherent unfairness of the publishing industry, which rewards shite like this with multi-million-dollar contracts, give it a read. But for god’s sake don’t buy it. Take my copy. I’m serious.

I hope that helps a bit. I don’t read very highbrow stuff most of the time, but some of the things I’ve listed should keep you entertained on a rainy Sunday afternoon.

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