I had told myself I wouldn’t buy any new books until I’d finished at least half of the unread pile of books on my shelf. And then I went to the used bookstore. That resolution didn’t last very long.
I picked up Julian Barnes’s Letters from London because it was wonderfully funny on the random pages I flipped to, and because I’m such an Anglophile. I’m looking forward to reading this one.
I also bought John Baxter’s A Pound of Paper: Confessions of a Book Addict, which is a book about book collectors. It’s the book I’ve been reading before bed, and so far it’s an interesting account of Baxter’s journeys through various bookshops, flea markets, and other places to find books, as well as his encounters with authors and other collectors.
Thanks to Aman over at Confessions of a Readaholic, I found a few more books about books. I picked up Wendy Lesser’s Why I Read: The Serious Pleasure of Books from the library yesterday, and have gotten about thirty pages into it. It’s not quite the book I was expecting, but it’s interesting all the same. Lesser has divided the book into chapters like ‘Character and Plot’ or ‘Novelty’, and discusses how these things are accomplished in the various books she’s read in her life.
I’ve also been reading James Gleick’s The Information on my e-reader. It’s incredibly dense, and certain passages are difficult to get through if you’re not into mathematics (like I’m not), but overall it’s interesting.
I could not get into Aislinn Hunter’s The World Before Us. I don’t know what it was about the story, but it just didn’t grab my attention. Which is a shame, because Hunter’s prose is gorgeous. I think I’ll be looking into her other books.
In other news, I finished sanding and re-staining the nightstand I rescued from the trash. It’s beautiful now, fits perfectly between the bed and the door, and gives me a place to put the books I’m in the middle of.