empathy

I'm spending close to a week in a lodge on a very rural mountain in Tasmania after the A levels. It's almost like being institutionalised, only with cutesy Pademelons, prancing about the dewy mountain grass, that we will force feed Iron Man cereal to. (- kidding.) I'm also very thrilled that my botanist cousin is coming along, and will surely impress us to no end with his knowledge of plants and horticulture. Anyway, in preparation for the long, sunny and paradoxically chilly summer days, I'm going to bring along a separate trailer filled with Australian, scenery-specific reading materials.

Reading List! (mainly for my own reference, because I have decided to be focused and frugal when book shopping - a concrete book list will prevent me from buying titles that I will not read. Like The Tate Guide To Modern Art Terms that I bought in the MoMA store in a moment of extravagance. Or an issue of McSweeney's dedicated to obscure and obsolete literary forms. Or even more orange-edition Penguin modern classics purchased solely for the novelty of their covers than actual interest in the text.) -

(I wanted to include the pictures but now cannot be assed to after encountering formatting issues and shameless error messages.)

1. Picnic At Hanging Rock by Joan Lindsay - in which I appreciate the rural Australian landscape while reading about schoolgirls disappearing mysteriously, and in the process, giving myself the creeps when alone in the bathroom.

2. Cloudstreet by Tim Winton - in which I laugh and cry at the same time, prompting family members to chaperone me for the entirety of the trip.

3. The Just! series of books by Andy Griffiths - in which I am judged for being either (a) childish and immature or (b) childish and immature in an ironic way, which is, frankly, getting childish and immature as well.

4. Playgrounds: a portrait of rave culture by Tom Griffin - in which I contemplate the nineties all over again.

5. He Died with a Felafel in his Hand by John Birmingham - in which I judge a book based on the premise of its awesome title.

6. The Man Who Loved Children by Christina Stead - in which I ward off inane and premature Michael Jackson-related jokes.