Reading at the Novel Cafe on Tuesday, I’m about done with Less Than Zero and ready to start Bright Lights, Big City, when my friend Jeff walks in and demands, “What is this — Greatest hits of 1985 week?”

I checked out those two plus Jonathan Franzen’s The Discomfort Zone on Tuesday, and as of a few minutes ago I’ve read all of them.

Now I’m thinking a lot about cocaine and bird watching and how much easier it is to read fiction than poetry and how maybe I should try to do more things that’re easier.

Gen X lit interests me because I’m a Gen Xer, sort of, depending on what cutoff date you use for the end of Gen X and the beginning of Gen Y or the millennials or whatever they’re calling those kids these days. If you’ve got recommendations of Gen X fiction written by women — besides Tama Janowitz, who’s next on my list — please pass ‘em on. Otherwise I’ll just continue listening to old Liz Phair while reading –

Apparently, bird watching — plus seeing Al Gore’s powerpoint presentation at the Ethical Culture Society — turned Franzen into a bit of an environmentalist. He doesn’t own a car (okay — not that surprising, since he lives in Manhattan), lives in an energy-efficient apartment, and recycles, he writes. He also seems to feel guilt, regret, and a certain level of helplessness about the state of our planet — v. common feelings among environmentalists –

I may have to read How to Be Alone now, so I can read and write more without constantly fearing I’m turning into a misanthropic hermit.

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