Love of a Literary Life

I’m thrilled to be back to my zen-level of reading five or so books concurrently. Lily Bart has grown stale, and though I love Edith Wharton and appreciate good social commentary (especially from that time period), I cannot truly love such a weak heroine. So I have paused this book momentarily, and as I have read it twice before, I don’t think I will loose any sleep over it. I’m nearly finished with Wakefield Hall and having found my mind no further improved, am not impressed. I still continue reading Siddhartha online at work; in fact, I’m rereading it again even though I just finished it. Add to this my new reads: The Social Contract, as just mentioned in my previous blog, and Atlas Shrugged, for which I was compelled to reduce my computer room to a field mine of scattered piles of books.

…which, in my frenzied quest for a specific book, forced me to face the undeniable truth – I must put my books back in order. They are my babies, after all, and as “out of sight, out of mind” is not an option for me, I just have to grit my teeth and turn librarian for a few hours. I’m sure I’ll be adding a few more books to my current reading list when I do… I saw several books, in the fleeting moments of a glace before I tossed them aside and continued my search for Ayn Rand, that I had been meaning to read (or reread, as the case may be) but had simply forgotten. My poor neglected books!

I also want an excuse to use the words “seditious,” "plethora," and “fecundity” in a sentence. Or better yet, all together! :D