Last year, I read the most remarkable book. Maybe you’ve heard of it: The Book of Strange New Things by Michel Faber.
This book did everything for me. It made me laugh. It made me cry. I questioned life on multiple levels due to this book. It was beautifully written. Raw in place which are normally soft and precious. Delicate would it could have just been strange.
Yet, everyone that I’ve asked to read this book can’t finish it. They just can’t. They don’t like it at all.
What is not to love about a Christian missionary travel to another planet to preach the gospels to a bunch of aliens?!
You know who doesn’t like this book? Savages!
Okay, that line about the savages was a joke, but seriously. I have no idea why my mother didn’t love this book.
Also, I can’t get anyone on board with The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera.
Maybe, it’s just me.