lilwatchergirl correctly noted that I was reading far too many books at once. This is just an update, a month later, to see how I'm getting through that pile.
I've finished the Barnes (Before She Met Me) and the Fitzgerald (This Side of Paradise). Woohoo! On the other hand, I'm still reading the seemingly endless trivia book (The Know-It-All), I gave up on the heavy political book (The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine) when I accidentally soaked it in red wine, I haven't read any more of Miranda July's stories and I haven't made much progress on the French & Spanish re-reads.
Meanwhile, I also quickly read Silk by Alessandro Baricco (short, atmospheric, but not particularly memorable), and now I'm enjoying Pages for You (lovely lesbian love romp) by Sylvia Brownrigg.
Oooh, I forgot one. I also read Reading and Writing by V.S. Naipaul, which I found really inspiring. Apparently he always wanted to be a writer, but all he did until he was about 25 was stare at his crisp lined notebooks. Then he suddenly found his writing voice. Not that I secretly harbour ambitions to be a writer, but if I did...