cyphomandra

I had a tiny moment of rage on visiting the library to find that the young adults’ fiction section has two display stands, one marked “Girls’ books” and one marked “Boys’ books”. I did wonder if they were intentionally problematising this on the boys’ side by having Tanith Lee’s Piratica II and an Alex Sanchez about gay Christians (first two chapters like being hit over the head with a well-meaning brick, so I put it back), but all the girls’ titles suggested a distinct lack of irony. It occurs to me now that I should have put up my own selections, but at the time my inner seething got mixed up with embarrassment at having to pay my overdue fines with a credit card (internet banking timing problem). Maybe I'll sneak back.

( Bil Wright, When the black girl sings. )

( Lee Child, Bad luck and trouble. )

( Haruki Murakami, After Dark. )