(27 books so far in 2011 -- one book every 8.8 days.)
I just finished a couple of wonderful books, the first of which was pretty much a sure thing seeing as it was written by David Mitchell. Black Swan Green is, I believe, Mitchell's fourth novel, which surprised me quite a bit. Once again, his trademark style is employed here -- a series of interconnecting short stories which come together to tell the story. However, to me it had the feeling of a first novel, having the feel of an autobiography and being somewhat more traditional than his amazing novel Cloud Atlas.
I have much to say about this book and the progression of his novels, but I fear it would be ridiculously boring to anyone who hasn't read these books. (Ask my husband -- after finishing Black Swan Green I kept blathering on about it for days.)
The next book I read was by a newcomer -- Ernest Cline. His debut novel, Ready Player One, was a ridiculously fun read. If you were an 8-bit gamer, playing too much Atari and spending too many quarters at the arcade, you will love this book! After devouring it, I was left with that sad feeling of wanting more to read by this author, but as it's his first novel and was just published, I fear I have a while to wait. While whining about this, Pete reminded me that Ernest Cline (like George R.R. Martin) is "not your bitch" which is true but unfortunate. (Did you get that reference? If so, I fear that you too are a geek.)
Anyway... I have to say that I am finding something peculiar, which has probably not occurred before due to my relative youth. I suppose there are very few authors who are published before they hit their 40's because suddenly I am reading a bunch of novels by my contemporaries. I was born in 1970 and here are the birthdays of several of the authors I have been reading (and enjoying):
Ernest Cline: 1972
David Mitchell: 1969
China Mieville: 1972
Jo Walton: 1964
I find I am particularly enjoying cultural references in these books which give me a personal connection to the story. Quite interesting.