I, Etcetera – Susan Sontag
In hindsight, I think it was a mistake to read I, Etcetera. Not because it was particularly bad (although it was hard to read in places), but because though I wanted to read something by Susan Sontag, her fiction isn’t exactly what she’s known for. I should have just gone for one of her books of essays, or her monographs, or hell, one of the fiction works that were actually celebrated, rather than an obscure collection of short stories. Let that be a lesson to me on just getting the first thing I can find from the Library catalogue.