I was actually going to title this post something along the lines of "The Dwindling TBR Pile", but for fear of being labeled "Pooter-ish" (can someone please tell me what the literary reference is? I should be embarrassed to ask as now I am showing how little I know, but curiosity overcomes me), I decided it required something with a more erudite flair to it. When I first read about this little tempest in a teacup (as everyone is calling it), I was rather amused (surely I am so far off the radar that this doesn't even affect me), but now reading about it daily is giving me a bit of a headache. It is sort of depressing me even. There are many excellent litblogs out there, but I hate to admit I am sort of in a class...well off to one side, down the stairs, maybe even in the basement...of my own. Hanging my head in shame...I am one of those horrible book bloggers (notice the distinction please) who quite often laments my ever growing TBR pile, and discusses the books on my night table (today's topic, thank you...er...sorry...), excitably shares my new book acquisitions (see yesterday's post...er...sorry again). Apparently these sorts of topics are not "edifying" or even "very interesting". I can only say that I hope that my enthusiasm for books and reading outweighs the banality of things I write about, as I truly love reading and love books, and I know there are many others out there like me. So, I offer you the occasional opinion (not even "criticism"), very often wonderful book finds, and sometimes other (likely banal) chattiness. Reading is really a sort of odyssey for me. Sometimes it is simply a pleasurable foray into fluffiness--I want to be entertained, sometimes I want to learn something (perhaps even "edify" myself), or be challenged. But reading for me really is like a voyage--I am never the same person after finishing a book as when I started it. And blogging and interacting with other book/lit bloggers has really helped me widen my reading perspectives, so I hate the idea it is all for naught or that we shouldn't bother.
Now. On to my regularly scheduled post.
I had planned on waiting until after the holidays to finish Virginia Woolf's The Voyage Out (remember my little plan of finishing all those books by the end of the year? and then changing my mind). I am not sure why (possibly because I just read Virginia Woolf's most excellent essay on Robinson Crusoe, which was in my edition of the novel), but I decided to pick it back up again. A few chapters later and I am losing myself in the story. The Dalloways have made an appearance and we are chugging our way to South America (is that what cargo ships do? Chug?). Rachel has just passionately kissed Mr. Dalloway, or perhaps it was the other way around, and now I am quite interested. I have to keep reminding myself that technically Virginia Woolf didn't write this, Virginia Stephen did. I have already tracked down some criticism (yes, there is still most definitely a place for it!) on the novel. I am glad I decided to start at the beginning with Woolf's work. Even if this is her "earliest" (and thus not best?), I am still in awe. There is something about the way she uses words that amazes me.
And two of my books are passing in the night. At one point in The Voyage Out, Clarissa Dalloway pulls out Jane Austen's Persuasion to read aloud to her husband. Clarissa goes off to leave Rachel to continue the story...anyway, I am probably not far enough along to know if there is going to be any significance that this particular novel is mentioned. I just happened to start reading Persuasion myself yesterday as well. It 's strange how that happens sometimes--completely out of the blue--one book crosses paths with another. And only a few pages into the Austen I am reminded what a wonderful author she is as well. Her writing is so crisp and elegant, you can just hear it aloud in your head (well, I can at least). And yes, my reading pile is dwindling (did you think I was going to let you off the hook and you were'nt going to have to hear about it?). Here's what I have finished:
- Indiana
- Mr. Midshipman Hornblower
- Robinson Crusoe
- Monsters
- Gaudy Night
- Eat, Pray, Love
- The Observations
- Frankenstein
And here are the books that are left:
- War and Peace
- Mystery of the Sea
- The Black Pearl
- The Voyage Out
- Sophie's Choice
Sorry. I had to list them. I even managed to finish one other book amongst that pile that wasn't part of the initial group. A bit more whittling and and I will be done (maybe not this year, but pretty close)! Then no doubt I will get myself into trouble again later.