September 07th, 2023

I went to the library late last week to stock back up.  These are the four books that I chose.  Whle I particularly like historic fiction, I actually like almost every kind of book so I'm open to all sorts of books.  I didn't really have time to go to the library but I went anyway.  I was starring down the barrel of a 3-day weekend.  No way was I walking into it without some new books to read!

As soon as I got home with this batch, I started thumbing through them trying to decide  in which order to read them. (I stack them in the order I wish to read them y'see) and I ended up being so engaged with the first book, that I sat down and read it. Dang.  One book down and it was only the first day.

To be fair, it was a super quick read.  Basically, just brain candy.  Historic brain candy but still.  It was vastly superior to say, a Harlequin novel and of course muchmuchmuch better than ANYTHING by Danielle Steele (but then,  what isn't?) and yet it still falls in that basic category.  Those sorts of books always remind me of my mother.

I know I've mentioned before that I come from a family of readers.  And generous readers at that. Meaning that we shared our books.  Back when everyone was still around, and my sister, her daughters and our parents all lived near each other and only I lived far away, they would trade their books around and once everyone had read everything, the books would be packed up and shipped to me!  My turn, My turn!   The first ones I always read were the stilly little romance novels that were my mother's choice of reading material.  We referred to them as bathtub books because each book could be read in its entirety in one nice long soaking bath.  As a bonus, if it accidentally fell in the tub or got dunked, it really didn't matter.  I received many a book with stiff and wrinkled pages.  Pre-dunked as it were.  

The point here is that, despite my snotty comment about Danielle Steele,  I'm not a snob about what I read. Although I find that I am more selective than I used to be.   I used to have the attitude that every book that fell into my hands had to be read. I mean really and truly read, appreciated, considered and remarked upon.  Even if it was not an enjoyable read.  If someone else put the effort into writing the book, the least I could do is read the dang thing, was how I saw it.  But as time has gone by, I have become more, ummm, discriminating I suppose is the correct word.  It finally occurred to me at some point that pleasure reading should indeed be a pleasure and if I wasn't enjoying it, why was I reading it??  I mean seriously, I am not getting any younger here. Why would I waste my time and eyesight on a book I'm not enjoying?

I also used to approach a library visit like a military mission requiring lots of research and forethought.  I would bring in lists of recommended books to search for and should those not give me the desired results,  my list of books that I happened to have come across in newspapers and magazines and then the back up to the back up plan which was to have topics in mind that I could then look up - first in the card catalogues (remember those?) then later on the library computers. The results were, mixed.  Sometimes I bought home books I loved and other times books I merely liked and still other times books that I hated.

Then, earlier this year, I made a mistake.  Before I walked over to the library, I made sure that I had my various lists, my library card,  my book bag (to carry home the books!) and my sunglasses.  I ambled over, enjoying the walk, and arrived in due time.  Once through the doors, I removed my sunglasses and immediately realized that I had forgotten to bring my reading glasses.  Dang.  Without them I see perfectly at a distance but everything up close is a blur.  Doubledang.  For a minute I considered walking back home to get them and then returning even though I honestly didn't have time for all that back and forthing.  How badly did I need new books?  Well, very badly apparently because I ended up standing in a random aisle, effectively blind,  and then choosing 4 random books.  Literally turned to the left and selected two books and then turn right and picked two others.  I checked them out, walked home, put on my reading glasses and discovered that I had miraculously gotten 4 really great books!  Wow!

So while I do remember my reading glasses now, I don't put as much forethought into my book selections.  I pick an aisle, a shelf, and kind of randomly pick 4 books.  I am usually in and out of the library in under 15  minutes. And, shockingly, my selections are at least no worse than they were when I was putting so much thought, time and energy into choosing.  And, bonus, it's always a surprise.  I do love a good surprise.

The surprise 4 selections from the previous visit took place in 1) France 1942, 2) Austria/Hungry WWI,  3) Sweden through 3 generations of women and 4) Ireland WWII.  Of that lot the only one that disappointed was the last one.  It had potential but kind of dragged on and on and on...bah.  I returned that one without finishing it. With NO remorse!  Remember, I no longer finish reading things I am not enjoying.   Hey, if I go to a party and I'm not having a good time, I go home!  Same thing.

ANWAY, here's hoping that the two remaining books in this week's stack get me through the weekend.  No worries, my back up to the back up to the back up is to just re-read something that is already sitting on the shelf.

Wishing you great books and an even better weekend!

​Hugs all 'round