Memoir Quest (TM) continues.
Thank zeus for the Seattle Public Library, because if I'd bought the last batch of memoirs with my own cash, I'd be mad about the stack of half-read tomes lying around the house.
Lee Child. Jack Reacher is a literary gem and always features some damn fine writing to boot.
Both the memoirs (unlike Reacher) had prologues, of a sort. Still, completely unnecessary. I skimmed and then skipped.
I only made it through about 3 chapters of Lipstick Jihad. The writing approach felt like a long look down memory lane, hastily translating the scenes even though I hadn't quite focused on what was happening. I wanted more immediacy. I wanted to feel the incongruity and fear and loveliness of being an Americanized Iranian in Iran. I'll probably just re-read Persepolis.
Going Solo is the second half of Roald Dahl's memoir. On a previous reading, I was intererested in the scenes in Tanzania and around East Africa. What I hadn't remembered was the embedded, casual racism towards most Africans. No surprise, but unpleasant reading. I forged ahead to the battle scenes, as cinematic and powerful as any cold-eyed war movie.
So much killing and fighting and dying and here we are again with Nazis in the streets. Deplorable!