Sometimes you just don't. The Buddha of Suburbia was not one of those crazy books that make absolutely no sense to me, stream of consciousness or with holes cut out (or pooping outside of a window). It was a coherent story.
Unfortunately, it just didn't resonate with me. It's narrated by a half Indian young man making his way in 1970s London. The story was interesting, and his world was interesting, and the characters are all interesting, but I just was left feeling kind of meh. I'm sure that for some people this was a fascinating social commentary, but I'm just not one of those people!
I'm definitely not going to like them all.
In other news, my daughter has just started reading! I'm so happy and proud of her and we have been reading a lot of those decodable books. She loves it so far. The way she goes through a new library book at rapid speed enjoying every minute reminds me a lot of Marissa and me when we were little. It's a very happy time here in my house.