That crappy week of reading is the result of two things: a wonderfully full week of work and social events and a sadly disappointing slate of books picked up recently:
I'm still slogging through Hamilton, which I may have to set aside for a bit as the mental burden of still being on chapter nineteen in that is bringing me down. I'm hate-reading the end of Defending Jacob in preparation for book club this week; while I think it will make for some excellent discussion, I've generally found the book exceedingly irritating on many levels.
After devouring and adoring two very different March releases (Evicted: Profit and Poverty in the American City and What Is Yours Is Not Yours: Stories), I'm hoping that my next March book fills those very large shoes: The Year of the Runaways.
With a host of work and review deadlines heaping up in the coming weeks, I'm not doing a great job of Reading My Own Damn Books, though I am (slowly) re-reading American Gods for a buddy read with a friend.