I love to read. I may not have read everything that a degree in Literature might require, but in twenty-five years I’ve covered a lot. I’m not counting the five years when I “read” by describing the pictures.
As a general life rule I’m an over-stocker. I don’t feel safe when the mayonnaise gets low; I need to have a back-up. At work we use a couple spoons a night, but I’ll make sure the spoon container has at least fifty. The same goes for underwear and books. I feel panicky if I’m reading a book and I don’t have another one lined up.
I’m always looking for recommendations and I’ve stumbled on a gold mine. There’s a wonderful regular who seems to know exactly what I would love to read. She got me started on an Ann Patchett kick. I tell this to another regular. He scoffs at Ann Patchett. He tells me,
“If you want to read a good book, read A Fine Balance.”
“I’ve read plenty of good books.”
“I’m telling you, read A Fine Balance.”
“Ok.” The name rings a bell. I feel like I can picture the book cover. I have the distinct feeling it’s sitting on my childhood desk untouched. My mom confirms this. She tells me,
“There’s a bookmark in it. Are you going to start from where you left off?”
The only reason there would ever be a bookmark in the middle of a book that I’m not reading means I did not like it and moved onto something else, like Ann Patchett.
|I don’t read much non-fiction, but if I did…|