... Atlas Shrugged.
I read and enjoyed, after several false starts, both Catch 22 and Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. Though, neither changed my life. I think the only book I could honestly describe as life changing would be The Female Eunuch.
I cannot stand self-help books, I find them excruciating.
I enjoy biography (sometimes), history, stuff about language and words. And I can't stop reading about religions (know thy enemy *significantly touches side of nose*).
I struggle with the Russians, love individual poems but not poetry so much. I love good fiction, but would be hard-pressed to accurately describe what makes good fiction.
I spend a significant portion of my discretionary income on books, clearly they are important to me. And yet, I've never broken up with someone over a book (I may have done, however, if I'd ever found a beau reading rape porn or something in the non-fiction, neo-Nazi oeuvre). Mr Brown reads, but not with the same enthusiasm, I don't hold it against him. At least he doesn't try to stop me reading, unlike those bloody cats! Anti-intellectual little heat sluts.
Apparently your library, what you read, says a lot about you to other people. I've no idea what mine says about me, fickle perhaps? Unable to specialise?
Sunday, May 24
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3 comments:
I think fickle suits my tastes in books too, or eclectic (good word, trips off the tongue). ;o)
A Renaissance woman whose eclectic tastes range widely and, clearly, a cat lover who lets those heat-seeking missiles get in the way of her reading, the softie. How's that? :-)
Roo, eclectic is a good word indeed.
Zoomie, perhaps my heart of stone is actually pumice!
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