Home Game
I’m not sure I can tell you why, but I have this weird fixation with being introduced to authors by reading one of their completely inessential works first.
For years Carrie has been singing the praises of Michael Lewis, to which I’ve always given a polite nod, mostly because of my distaste for sports. Especially in a state like Alabama, it’s hard enough to dodge conversations about this team vs. that. So why would I want to read about the stuff?
The back cover of Home Game had little to say about sports at large, so it seemed like a promising enough alternative. And I was intrigued about how the book claimed to not be about the joys of parenting, but the complete opposite. It read like a journal where Lewis vented about all the pain his wife and children put him through during this time, trying and failing to make sense of it.
I’ve kept up with reading really well (and listening, when it comes to audiobooks). It’s the whole blogging thing I’m falling behind with. We’ll try to fix this shortly.
This book was #46. Only 6 more to go!




