In my long and happy association with books, it has come to my attention that I have very few people in my life with whom I am comfortable discussing the literature I love.
Always, when books are mentioned I light right up.
Sadly, my company usually does not.
This is disappointing, but determined to connect with them, I turn the topic to what they are interested in and leave my books out of it.
So how is that interesting to me?
It often isn’t.
But we are here to learn how to live together, and the best way is to try and understand one another. Understanding always interests me.
But sometimes (sigh) the obvious lack of similarities between me and friends of mine gets to me.
It’s probably my own fault, because I tend to write much better than I speak. As for the rest of it-the hodge podge of people I know- I chalk up to predestination.
So lately, feeling somewhat more disconnected than usual, and feeling like I really need to remember who I truly am, I have decided to go through my books one by one and write down what I think of them, why one should read them, and include excerpts.
This is purely for my own amusement and hopefully, yours.