By Katie Capaldi
About this same time last year, I came down with something really awful. The kind of awful that forced me to take weeks away from work, to receive many more bills from Blue Cross than I care to recall, and—most loathsome of all—prevented me from reading anything that required more attention than my foggy brain and virtually narcoleptic body would allow.
It was this series of circumstances and setbacks that finally led me to read something entirely outside of my comfort zone. In a matter of days, I had breezed through Stieg Larsson’s famed “Millennium Trilogy”. Truthfully, at the end of the series, I couldn’t recall much of what I had read, and I daresay it had less to do with my illness-induced stupor than the fact that Larsson’s books are simply dripping with salacious encounters, of-the-moment plot twists, and rapt morbidity. All qualities which admirably serve to keep the reader dashing toward the answer to the mystery, guessing what Lisbeth will do next, and in a state of pure escapism. Hardly, however, the stuff of lasting literature.
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Posted in Stories, biblio files on Friday, March 11th, 2011 | 1 Comment »
biblio files 
