If you visit here regularly you will have noticed that I have this pesky tendency to read a number of books at once--dipping into one and then another and then yet another over the course of a weekend or even the course of a day. It's not that I can't spend long hours with just one book. Truly I am not as fickle as I appear. I am curious about many things, though. There are places I want to go, things I want to see and do, people I'd like to meet. No matter how near or far--in both time and distance, it's all at my fingertips when I open a book. And at the moment I have a number of especially enticing books on the go so it is always a dilemma which I should reach for first.
I was thinking this weekend as I was reading short stories how often they are perfect little windows onto the world and how important stories in general are to me. They are more then mere entertainment (though they are that, too)--they are the embodiment of that moment in Robinson Crusoe of finding a footprint in the sand, if you know what I mean. Both long (novels) and short (stories) and anything in between. As a matter of fact in course of one weekend I have been:
Mixed up with a runaway in Shirley Jackson's "Louisa, Please Come Home". And I suspect I will never really be able to visit Kampala, but I was there in Dinan Mengatsu's "The Paper Revolution".
Balzac is throwing a dinner party in "Another Study of Womankind" in which I am privy to much sparkling conversation. It's sort of like being a fly on the wall. His world is quite detailed and there is much insight into the motivations and attitudes of Parisian society.
I'm traveling to 1947 India with Alison McQueen. When would I ever be able to see the inside of a palace or look upon the Maharaja's harem? And it's warm and sunshiny there, too.
I've been traveling by ship to South Africa with Anne Beddingfeld in Agatha Christie's The Man in the Brown Suit. There's a hint of espionage, several murders, and now the discovery of diamonds.
I've been following Inspector Rheinhardt around turn-of-the-century Vienna while he investigates a series of murders with the help of his friend Max Liebermann. Dr. Freud has made an appearance. I'm happy to join them in their coffeehouse excursions, though they make me hungry for all the pastries and coffees they consume. And they consume a lot.
Almanzo seems to have a bottomless stomach, too, in Farmer Boy, but considering how many chores he must attend to--breaking in his calves, helping cut ice, sowing fields, carrying sap from the woods to his mother's pot in the kitchen--it's no wonder he needs that second piece of apple pie in the mornings. I would, too.
I attended a holiday party in Dublin thanks to James Joyce. So much subtlety and nuance. I watched everyone so very closely and listened in to their conversations intently. I hope I can tell you more about it very soon. I was there and back so quickly I might have to relive it all once again to make sure I've got it all straight.
And now to Tokyo through the eyes of a schoolgirl. I though I wasn't really very interested in visiting Japan, but my curiosity is piqued. The sign of a good storyteller--listening to a story that you thought you had no interest in yet finding yourself completely absorbed. Such is the beauty of books.
I've been blissfully contented sitting in my 'armchair' with my books yet I feel as though I am always getting off one plane after arriving from one destination and getting on another soon to be departing on a new adventure.
Where did your reading take you this weekend? Did you need a passport? Try a new food? Have a little unexpected romance?