It seems that a month-long break did not quite eliminate my indecision regarding book posts, and now I feel the overwhelming need to catch up, to post not merely an update on March reading, but February as well. Actually I suppose I just want to make collages of all the covers, and I feel no need to write reviews or synopses. It seems I can live with that. Sometimes pretty sparkly things, pictures and surfaces are enough to hold the memories that lie beneath.
I did think that I the reprieve would allow me time to explore purpose and intention, to come up with some kind of coherent plan or theme for this blog, but all I really learned was that I am really not interested in limiting myself to any specific set of topics or themes. So much for that. Increasingly, it appears to me that there is a time for plans for schedules and goals, a time for "forward motion" and a time to just go with the flow. I'm opting for the flow, whatever that means. Frankly all I decided is that I don't have to decide.
And so I had fun playing with collages.
As you can see, I read five really good books in February and a lot of popcorn fiction. I'd rather spend 2 hours with a simple bit of fictional fluff, than watching an average movie or television show, but that is just me. And a good bit of this reading was accomplished on the treadmill, in the time I have devoted to slowly walking and teaching myself how to breathe properly, engaging in this tediously slow pursuit of this health-more-than-fitness project I decided to take on for this year. My trainer, and yes I have consulted one, told me it would take at least six months before I saw real results, possibly a year, which isn't much when I think that I am probably trying to reverse 45 years worth of bad habits. Nonetheless, I tend to grow depressed and think it is all a waste of time, and then I notice that I actually see improvement in little but profoundly telling ways. Besides which, we all know that fitness does not necessarily imply health. We see evidence of this all around us, though we try to convince ourselves otherwise. The obverse is, of course, also true. And so, onward.
The light reading also offered me a lot of quiet time to absorb the other, simultaneous and more transformative, reading. The five good books all challenged my basic assumptions and views of the world in one way or another and those tumultuous feelings always need time to seep through the intersteces of one's neurological make-up. Nothing earth-shakingly new in terms of basic information, more just an aspect of turning a corner and seeing something through new eyes. Yes, I am writing in oblique fragments.
Ahh, I see somehow my March collage is more linear, with the best books at the bottom and the most frivolous on top. The Elena ranks as the fluffiest book of the month. I don't believe it even filled the available time in a flight from Knoxville to Atlanta, therefore less than an hour. Mostly easily forgettable, but with scattered jewels of thoughts. There seems to have been less popcorn fiction in March, but there was also less treadmill work due to travel, adventure and a sinus infection. A couple of these books showed up on my Instagram feed, and I like that format as a way of sharing impressions and passing thoughts, snapshots of a day, once again without a particular plan, or any need for explanation or consistency.
I am Not Your Perfect Mexican Daughter was purchased on a whim and donated to the Children's Diversity and Justice Library. Ordinary People and Solar Bones will remain on my shelves. Channeling Italo Calvino, who said "A classic is a book that has never finished saying what it has to say", it seems like these two novels offer the promise of a longer conversation. I've never been a person who reads a book only once, which is, of course, also why I am building a library. Classics and personal favorites, the promise of books yet unread, the familiarity and ongoing conversations with beloved words. I miss my library. That reunion will be quite sweet.
