I was just staring--with longing, hope, and a fervent desire for time--at my stack of summer reading, and I realized the ratio of male to female writers is pathetically imbalanced. But instead of trying to right things, I think I'll just go with it:
But for the Lovers, Wilfredo D. Nolledo. It just arrived in my mailbox yesterday!
Names Above Houses, Oliver de la Paz. I've had this for awhile, but can't get past page 5 because I'm always stopped cold by these lines: Fidelito's mother found a pair of nubs bordering his spine. They were drawn up like hands wringing their own skin from themselves, two clenched fists. Traslated, it was the odd grace. It's coming to the lake with me, this book. I'll finish it there.
Seasons by the Bay, Oscar Penaranda (yes, I know there should be a tilde over that first 'n' but no amount of coaxing will persuade blogger to let me do it). This just arrived yesterday from Oscar, and I'm going to review it for Cecilia Branaird's site. If any of you wordy types would like to review his new collection of poetry, Full Deck (Jokers Playing), please backchannel.
Spain's bestseller, The Shadow of the Wind, Carlos Ruiz Zafon. Because you gotta read one big fat book during the summer.
The Sound on the Page: Style and Voice in Writing, Ben Yagoda. How could I resist?
All Over Creation, Ruth Ozeki. The lone female represented.
And of course I'm going to order the MELUS special issue on Filipino American literature, hot off the press, and painstakingly edited by Rocio Davis.
And, um, that'll do it.