books are for giving
My circumstances have afforded me the opportunity to read again. It was something that was missing from my life. As a child in the styx I spent my nights and mornings pouring through every sci-fi and fantasy volume i could lay my hands on, they lined the shelves of my room. My first friendships were based around books. I remember when Richard Harrington and i read the Tolkien trilogy, must have been 6th grade. These memories remain stored in boxes in my parent's attic. Vacations of late have been filled with good books. And Enzo has started reading voraciously, so we've been frequenting the used book store on b street. And its there that i discovered all the lit (chic and otherwise) i missed out on over the last ten years. Read the time traveler's wife, loved the interplay of temporal discontinuity in their lives, it added a new dimension to my perspective. I took a little sidetrack into the Twilight, so i can better understand the psyche of the present day teenage girl and why they scream so wantonly at Edward's visage. Been spending some time with Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell (via Lewis and Ange). He leaves me totally frustrated with his truncated story lines, I can only guess that he is giving me the choice moments of these characters lives, though it seems like a tease to end a story line just as it gets interesting (have since finished and determined that sometimes a tease is better than the full story). Time, and remembrance, seem to be the commonality between my favorite books these days.
When Enzo and I flew to the Caribbean we filled a suitcase full with our favorite books and recent New Yorkers. 35 lbs in all, a haul worth its weight in gold.
Comments [1]