Outta reads...

Went for a climbing workout today with an acquaintance; we hit it off nicely. One indicator to me is a person's reading tastes. She told me she'd been on 2 months' bedrest recently due to back surgery, and kept her sanity by reading, among other things, War and Peace, Great Expectations, Julia Child's autobiography, and some other selections I silently approved. We both agreed Anna Karenina was a favorite.
I am in a little dilemma now, as I have nothing queued up to read. Soon, to the book stores. My mother is re-reading, unbeknownst to her, the collected stories of Colette. We need some new material around here.
Late-breaking relief: My son pulled out an old Richard Brautigan book, A Confederate General from Big Sur. This ought to be interesting; I haven't read any Brautigan since my twenties. We'll see how the old pre-gonzo writer wears.