Looking at these old browser tabs is a bit like wandering through fragments of past thoughts. Or rather fragments of momentary attention (or distraction?). (I’m adding the straight URLs because I sort of think it’s good for people to start looking at URLs again.)
When I was quite young and still a very new reader, I asked my dad for something to read and he handed me The Hobbit. I read that book and then immediately wanted to reread it, I loved it so much. But instead I went to my dad and said, Do you have any other books like this? He handed me all three books of The Lord of the Rings. I think it took me almost the entire summer to read them all, but I was hooked. I probably didn’t understand half the words I read, but I loved them so much. I had no idea that books could evoke such strong emotions. I was hooked. For years, when I was younger, I read these books almost every year. Around my early 20s, I stopped reading them, I’m not sure why. I probably felt like I’d read them enough. (I did read The Hobbit to my kids, though. They weren’t swept away by quite like I was.)
Earlier this year, when I lost my job and the world started catching on fire, literally and figuratively, I found my mind returning to The Lord of the Rings and I began to want to read them again.
So I did.
I think it was the right choice. There’s a sort of time travel magic in rereading books from long ago, I find. A way of walking a path with my past self. Only with these books, I found myself walking a path with a decade or more of my past selves. Reading these books was such a cozy and also fortifying experience for me. I found nuance and subtlety that I’d never noticed before. The kindness of Sam and Frodo felt much richer. The Shire felt infinitely more pleasant. I found that all of the things that bored me as a child (the long walks through the countryside, the long conversations about what to do with the ring, the digressions) were the things I never wanted to end. I would’ve happily read a book about hobbits gamboling their way through the countryside for hundreds and hundreds of pages.
Thank you, Professor Tolkien. Your books have proved a mighty treasure in my life.
I decided to read this book because a book club at my work had just read it. I checked it out from the library only to later realize I had somehow ended up with my own copy. Funny!
I enjoyed this book about books and bookstores and readers. There’s a bit of drama in it, but for the most part it’s about decent people trying to make the best of things. To my mind, This kind of book makes for a good airplane or long car ride read. Short enough to read in one long sitting and engaging enough to hold attention. But not so engaging that it’s easy to set down if someone wants to chat. A fine balance.
Occasionally, I’ll read roleplaying game books. (Far more rarely will I play them.) I can’t speak to the game, but I dig this book’s style. It’s got an Art Deco style that can’t be beat. Dig it:
The whole book is full of the pellmell energy of this running girl, a sort of 19th century Dickensian energy that I can get behind. I look forward to the day when I can sit around the table with some friends, sharing snacks, and playing up some stories together.
(This is book 2 in the Epic Failure series.) As very silly books go, this one is up there. For some reason, science fiction comedy is tough to do. This one does a pretty good job. Throw in a dash of military/naval humor and you’ve got a pretty fun read. Not a bad way to while away the time. You’re probably all right reading this one on its own if you don’t have the first one to hand.
Given where we are, this book about incompetents running the show didn’t both me as much as I thought. Perhaps because they’re well-meaning incompetents.
Oh yeah, this book also has an extremely odd love triangle!
This is a charming and sweet story about three sisters in early 20th century London. They have a rich and vivid fantasy life. The book gets especially funny when the object of one of their stories (a local judge) happens to meet one of them. There’s some delightful dialogue in here. Another example of the ways in which the English tolerate eccentricity in a way that seems deeply odd from an American sensibility. It’s also a portrait of world before television when, if you were a narrative junky, then one of the easiest ways to get some narrative was just to make that up for yourself. If you’re looking for a book full of kindness, this is worth your time.
The shade of Philip K. Dick is haunting this book! Specifically, I’m thinking of Do androids dream of electric sheep? No one does cyberpunk like Mexican cyberpunk, I guess. This has got some wild bio hacking tech, a disaffected private eye, some weird drugs and creatures, and just slow, dragging badness.