Books are the air I breathe, so I don't notice the seasons. Actually, it can be delicious to be sitting in the sunshine reading something creepily icy. This summer I want to catch up on a novel by a favorite of mine, Neal Stephenson. His Anathem is just so heavy that I haven't managed to take it on any trips yet. He's a terribly funny polymath who wears his learning lightly. I'm also plucking up my courage to tackle Cormac McCarthy's back catalog. I'm a little scared to embark on such a gloomy set, but I know they'll be brilliant.
Donoghue's most recent novel is Room