Books can be very dangerous for me. It’s as if I want my own personal library. Thankfully I limit my book buying to the used section, which almost exacerbates the problem; the books are so cheap, how can I pass them up? The result is a steady turn over of books in the used section of the closest Barnes & Noble.
And it’s not bad enough with me being a writer: my wife is a teacher. And of course, she teaches pre-school and elementary, so our books of interest don’t exactly overlap (but when they do you can be sure it’s a must-read).
I think the only thing I have going for me is the bus. Since I ride the bus I’m actually reading all the books I buy. Although I probably shouldn’t use the word “all.” Currently my book buying is out-pacing my book reading–kind of like the population. Or maybe it’s just my wife’s sneaky way of encouraging us to move out of our apartment and into a house with more shelf space.
It’s amazing how disconnected modern man is from nature. We live in a world of concrete and asphalt where nature is confined to a few median strips and empty lots. It’s amazing how we completely forsake nature for own bottom line. I’ve been reading Silent Spring by Rachel Carson lately. It says basically the same thing my Environmental Science textbook said, and it’s amazing the intricacy inherent in nature. It only makes sense that nature takes a beating when we rain down poisons like DDT to control a few pesky insects. Next thing we know the birds are dropping dead.
Carson’s book isn’t exactly up to date anymore. It was written in the early 1960s and I imagine a lot has changed. But I also imagine a lot hasn’t changed. We’re even more disconnected now than we were in the 1960s. Although now there is an environmental consciousness. Although you wouldn’t know it from the president. He tacks conservation onto his energy program as a second thought, and the vice president doesn’t think conservation is worth our effort. They’d rather drill oil in Alaska.
I’m beginning to realize that a lot of man’s problems would be solved if he stopped worrying about the bottom line. That’s all that ever matters. You’d think some things would be more important. You’d think a world full of diverse natural creatures would be worth something. You’d think clean air and healthy people would be worth something.
It’s kind of sad that not much has changed since Carson’s days.
I started reading The Phantom Tollbooth today. I’m only a few chapters into it, but I can already tell it’s one of those classic books everyone should read. That and the raving review my wife gave it. It’s one of those books that makes you appreciate reading and the imagination. It’s one of those books every writer wishes they could write. So go read it. Yeah, that’s it. Not too deep tonight.
Isn’t it lovely to be sick on the first day of school? You’d think I plan these things. Well, at least I’ve set myself up with excuses to take advantage of.
Another book I read this summer was Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse V. I wanted to read it because that’s one of the more famous books by Vonnegut, and I remember reading another novel by Vonnegut in high school and really liking it. Of course Slaughterhouse V isn’t exactly an ordinary novel. Contrary to the sound of the title, it’s not a bloody slasher novel. It’s about the carpet bombing of Dresden in World War II, when the Allied Forces basically leveled the German city by bombing the entire city and forcing the city to burn to the ground. Citizens were trapped in bomb shelters and roasted alive from the intense heat. The devastation is comparable to Hiroshima.
Understanding all of that, you’d expect it to be a rather gripping novel that teaches you a lot about history. But I’m beginning to understand that Vonnegut isn’t a very predictable author. Slaughterhouse V has a very strange plot line, and for the first few chapters you’re not sure what’s going on. It’s a very interesting way to tell a story. I could explain some intricacies of the plot that you’ll find in the synopsis on the back of the book, but I think it makes it more interesting when you approach the book with little or no knowledge of what it’s about. By the time it was over I was a little surprised. It didn’t meet any of my expectations. But it made me think. And that’s why I read.
Sometimes while driving multiple hours on end I like to write stories in my head. That’s what the little story about Jeanie from yesterday was about. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll take the time to continue her tale. But for now you must forgive me, I have other stories to tell. I finished reading the Hobbit tonight, and am most eager to continue with the Lord of the Rings series. All summer long I’ve been taking books to work and reading them during my lunch break while I eat. More people responded to the Hobbit than any other book put together.
Lately I’ve been finding a lot of joy in reading. I’m crossing items of my summer reading list every week, and taking the time to read magazines online as often as I can. I love reading odd little well written articles about all sorts of stuff. Today I read about New Orleans becoming the next Atlantis and the Pentagon’s secret war with drug cartels in Columbia. Fascinating stuff that really doesn’t affect my life. As I was walking home thinking about some of these things, I realized that some people just don’t care. They don’t like to read, and filling their minds with odd bits of information isn’t a good use of time.
I pity these people. Wouldn’t it be better if everyone in the world could be so knowledge hungry, like me? Of course, I’m not that na
I love reading. When I was in third grade I remember vying for first place in our class’s reading program. Of course I was reading for number of books, not content. I remember my grandma taking me and my brother to the library during our vacation so we could find something to do. I remember curling up in the back of the minivan during family vacations and plowing through a pile of books–and then getting car sick.
Last night I went to a used book store and thought I was in heaven. I was wandering back and forth between the paperbacks and the hard covers, looking for every author I could think of. By the time I left I had whittled my pile down as much as possible. I walked out with $30 worth of books, birthday money well spent.
Now I’m trying to get through my summer reading list. Which is difficult, considering I’m continually adding to it. But it gives me a great feeling of satisfaction to finish a book and put it back on my shelf. Too bad I’ll always be chasing the end of my reading list. But in a way that’s the fun part.
I said this yesterday, but it’s really hard to reflect seriously during finals week. I didn’t do anything that tremendously taxing today, but I still don’t feel like seriously thinking tonight. I didn’t even take the garbage out today. So rather than give a poor excuse for a pondering, I’m just going to share my summer reading list. Everyone should have a summer reading list. Here’s mine (in no particular order):
Tonight I noticed that a large section of the populous doesn’t understand my ideals. I’m working on a paper for one of my graphic design classes and I’ve been having some difficulty finding information. I tracked down a new book online that looked like it would be helpful, and found a bookstore that carried the book. I went to the bookstore, got the book, and sat down with my notebook to read the opening pages. The coffee shop area of the bookstore I was sitting in was crowded with forty-somethings. A forty-something band was playing in the corner. There wasn’t a person under thirty in sight, besides me and my fiance. As I copied notes from this book I could feel every eye in the place looking over me disapprovingly. Apparently I’m supposed to buy the $75 book for four pages worth of information. Everyone else in that section of the store had a book they were reading–of course they intended to purchase the book when they got up to leave. I returned my $75 book to the front desk where they had held it on reserve for me. A large section of the populous doesn’t understand this cheap college student mentality. If I had the money I’d buy all sorts of books. But I don’t, so pardon me while I browse the shelves and copy down a few notes. Bookstores should be more like libraries. You can take the book home and read it, but you don’t have to keep it.
Do you believe in angels? Do you believe in demons? Images are conjured up of beautifully shining, winged beings, and wickedly ugly, black little demons. Cartoonish fairy tales. Yet they do exist. Understanding more about them is certainly a difficult task, but I’d urge you to read C.S. Lewis’ The Screwtape Letters. If his account of demons is anything close to reality, it’s pretty frightening. Imagine a diabolical fiend harassing you at every step, always trying to make you trip and fall that much farther from the truth. It’s really kind of scary to think that they could be messing with your mind like that. But then you also forget that the almighty power of God is also watching you every step of the way. It’s just frightening to think that a demon could be playing tricks with your mind like that. It really makes you think twice. It’s kind of like one of those conspiracy movies. You’d have to read the book to understand, I won’t try and recapitulate Lewis again.
A work-at-home dad wrestles with faith, social justice & story.