Currently Reading

If you look at the sidebar you'd see that I'm reading a lot of books right now. Rather, it appears that I'm reading a lot. There are two titles I could add to that as my book pile has grown humongous since the last time I posted a picture, but today's not the day for Book Porn. Maybe later. Maybe never. But yes, I'm reading a lot. As much as I can in the handful of minutes before sleep.

I'm not in the habit of discussing books I've yet to finish, particularly when I'm just starting them or right smack in the middle of them but I'm having a hard time composing stuff from the bunch that I did finish awhile back. Those books, comics and what-have-yous might make an appearance on this blog or another venue later on, but for now I think it's best to talk about the stuff I'm actually reading. And why. Gee, I sound like a professor. Maybe I should teach. La di da.

I remember picking up Natasha Mostert's Season of the Witch quite greedily. Carl posted about the book once and since then I tried in vain to search for it in stores here. Two or so years after and I finally see a copy here. [Aside: Sometimes I get lucky. I read posts on Margo Lanagan's Tender Morsels early this year, I think, and I got a hardback copy of the book last month.] Anyway, as soon as I got home I started reading the book. Well, I started admiring the cover of the book first (the one I have features a photo of a closed gate with tangled barks of a creeping plant barring any entrance whatsoever, which is pretty creepy and lovely at the same time). And I met Gabriel already, the lead character mentioned at the back of the book. In those couple of minutes before sleep, I learned that this hacker and techno-thief Gabriel is also a telepath and that an old girlfriend of his is in town, asking him to look for her stepson. And I stopped there.

While I would've gone on with that book it was also quite unfortunate that I chanced upon a copy of The Mists of Avalon, Marion Zimmer Bradley's retelling of the Arthurian legend a couple of days after I purchased Mostert's book. I guess it's obvious by now I'm a book hoarder, a proud one at that. Save for at least a week's discussion of a handful of passages of Malory's Le Morte d'Arthur in one of my English lit classes way back in college, I haven't really read any Arthur stories. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, yes, but that was a reading requirement in the same class. So all I know about King Arthur, Lancelot, Guinevere and Morgan LeFay comes from tv and movies. I remember Excalibur being thrown back to sea and a hand catching it from the depths as part of my memories of childhood movies. Bits and pieces tied together to form a semi-coherent understanding that King Arthur was a great king and Camelot was a great kingdom. A legend. And everyone knows legends, right? But nobody knows details of how the legend came about. Way back in college I knew I wanted to read the complete Malory but it was forgotten after I finished the class. And this book reeled me in completely. From stories from the Lady in the Lake, to Merlin, to Ingraine and Uther's love, the birth of Morgaine and the near-crowning of Gwydion, I mean, Arthur. It's quite a chunkster, almost 900 pages long and yet I breezed through it for almost 200 pages until I saw Oliver Sacks from my book pile.

You see I have a tendency to just pile up books and pick up what I feel like reading. And when I placed Bradley's book on top of the pile, the ones underneath it were dislodged and out comes Sacks' Oaxaca Journal. And I love Oliver Sacks. I wish I have all his books! I used to lug The Man Who Mistook His Wife for A Hat in college and read snippets during my free time. And this journal is about his trip to Mexico with other members of The American Fern Society. I may not know the difference between one fern to the other but I always find something new to learn when I read Sacks' books. True enough, I was enjoying my vicarious trip to Mexico, a bit history of chocolate and some drawings of ferns that a part of me didn't mind leaving England of old for the time being. I'm halfway through the journal when I started and stopped just as quickly with two or three books that won't be mentioned here for now.

Which brings me to The Fellowship of the Ring.

There was a time I read The Lord of the Rings trilogy every year for like four or so years. It started with the movie. Once pictures from the set started appearing in Tolkien-related sites way back, I knew I had to finish the books. You see, I'm a late bloomer when it comes to Tolkien. I owned the books for years but never got around to really reading them. I think I read The Hobbit first primarily because I almost always fall asleep every time I start with Bilbo's birthday preparations. And once I got past Bilbo's birthday it truly was an epic read and I had fun with it. So much fun that I reread it every year for like four or so years. Wait, I mentioned that already.

Early this month I wanted to reread all the Harry Potter books so I searched the box of books I shipped home for them. But luck (or my picky reading sense) led me to this book so I happily read Bilbo's birthday yet again. One night I chanced upon the film version on cable and I found myself laughing heartily along at the confluence of two seemingly unimportant events. So I brought this book with me after the holidays and quite promptly forgot about it until my not-quite remarkable books I picked up after Sacks.

And now I'm somewhere in Lothlorien, prior to meeting Galadriel.

Short of saying I'd probably get back to Mostert, Bradley and Sacks (not necessarily in that order) after I finish the first part of Frodo's quest.

And this is a long enough post that my lunch is probably cool enough and needs to be reheated again. But before that a photo:


Who the hell is Frondo? Tsk tsk tsk.