Rambling post

Here begins the ramble:

I'm reading and reading and reading. And yet, there's so much more to read! Sort of a luxurious problem to have, really. I'm not complaining, just trying to muster up the speedy reading of my youthful days from so many, many years ago. I could wax poetic about the slowing-down that my brain has done in its adulthood, but I'm not in the mood to rhapsodize about minutia, oddly enough.

I just sort of felt like chatting about some of the books I've got going now. I'm feeling pretty solid now, like one of those tennis players steadily winning game after game within a set and pumping fist victoriously in air rallying herself onwards. I mean I just finished The Journal of Helene Berr and, before that, a foreign language book (yea!), and prior to that Giants by John Stauffer; so, I'm on a roll. Game won.

Right now, I'm reading My Lady of Cleves, A Novel of Henry VIII and Anne of Cleves by Margaret Campbell Barnes and my first ever Georgette Heyer, The Reluctant Widow! I shall soon have the latter finished and ready for comment. Shortly thereafter, My Lady, will be appearing on these "pages" with its own commentary. These two were review copies from Sourcebooks and things are looking pretty good for them. I'm very intrigued by developments in Widow, (is it a ghost story?), and am finding the account of Elinor's settling in to her new home quite pleasingly cozy.

So, what else is there? Dum-di-dum (taps fingers while thinking) - Oh yes! I haven't discussed my like/dislike relationship with used books yet. I tend to love to go into used book fairs, buy a bunch, and then end up giving them away since I love a clean, crisp book rather than dog-eared copies that who knows who has taken into the bathroom with them. Please understand, I think it's wonderful that people recycle their books and that out-of-print copies are available in used bookstores and through ABEbooks, etc. But I'm a bit squeamish and that squeamishness generally ends up getting the better of me. There are exceptions of course like the one dollar Gone With the Wind I got from the year it came out, though it's not worth anything. Believe me, I checked.

Despite, these ambivalent feelings I could not resist buying two used books for one dollar each the other night. One, called Lenten Lands, by Douglas Gresham, is about CS Lewis. The other, is Charles J. Shields Mockingbird: A Portrait of Harper Lee, which I've been wanting to read. My justification for these purchases was that if I were to take them out of the library I would probably end up owing a fine of more than the dollar I paid for each and, thus, good economics allowed me to freely buy them with good conscience. And, judging by my recent $7.50 library fines, I was right.

About those fines, I feel so ashamed. What a waste. There is, at least, one consolation. And that is that the fines go to that wonderful establishment so important to individuals and societies in so very many different ways, the public library. So, instead of being ashamed, maybe I can consider myself a noble patron of the arts because of my fines? Yeah, I'm going with that.

So, now I've extolled the virtues of the public library system, supported it financially, discussed literature and used an athletic metaphor. Job done tonight.

Here ends the ramble.