This was not my most voracious year of reading literature. It was also not my best year for great reads. For the first time since I moved to South Africa I found myself yelling, 'Who the hell edited this shit?!!?' There were many books with potential that even editing could not have saved. They were 2nd drafts, an outline of a story that could have been brilliant if only the writer had given it another year of work. Sure, there have been some books I've enjoyed that should have gone another round of the draft process, or needed a better editor, but this year - gah!
And then there were the loads of beauty. There were some real treasures this year. But the one novel that has me going back to read it again and again is Finuala Dowling's Home Making for the Down-at Heart.
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