Unaccustomed Earth

Last night I started reading Jhumpa Lahiri's new book, Unaccustomed Earth. I made it through the first three stories, and for a fleeting but happy-making moment I convinced myself that I should stay up and finish it. I didn't because I don't get paid to read books, I get paid to get up in the morning and publicize them. I tucked a french flap into page 84 and went to sleep.

Tonight I was eager to commute home so I could read more. And I was eager to finish dinner so I could read even more. And now I'm finished.

Unaccustomed Earth is a beautiful, beautiful book. Here's a bit I liked from the New York Times Review: 
Lahiri handles her characters without leaving any fingerprints. She allows them to grow as if unguided, as if she were accompanying them rather than training them through the espalier of her narration. Reading her stories is like watching time-lapse nature videos of different plants, each with its own inherent growth cycle, breaking through the soil, spreading into bloom or collapsing back to earth.

Yeah. What they said. Just read it.