I was really kind of hoping that The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros was going to be one of our reads for this year, but I wasn’t tremendously hopeful. (It’s not that I didn’t begin months ago, it’s just that what with the state of the world, country, and my resultant personal life, I’ve preferred to dissolve into a blob of Schitt’$ Creek– or Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives-watching goo rather than use my taxed brain or emotions on anything more substantial during nearly every moment of “free time.”) I will not be emerging from this pile of books for some time, so strap on your seatbelts and get ready for a bombardment of high-school-reading reviews. At least if I could read a book a day this week I might figure out what I have to … And then I could come up with a choose-your-own list over the next few months. Class begins in a week and a half and I want to check on, oh, about thirty books. I have disappeared under a tower of books that I am still considering for my English 1 class, at this, the eleventh hour.
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