Reading "1984" is my latest timesuck.
A really cool thing about being with a bunch of intellectually-minded high schoolers is that you can actually have conversations about literature without people going "wait, remind me what a book is again?"
I'm getting lots of great recommendations. The general consensus is that I should read everything Steinbeck ever wrote (except all the guys hated "Grapes of Wrath"), but everybody hates Dickens because of adjectives.
Vanessa calls "1984" her "comfort book". I'm half way through, and I have no idea how this book can possibly be comforting. I also can't see any possible positive ending.
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