I read in fits and starts. There are times when all I want to do is settle into a comfy corner and read the day away, but sometimes weeks can go by when I’m burned out on the pages. The latter is a source of considerable frustration.

I realized as a teenager that there were more books I wanted to read than was possible in my lifetime. That was my first brush with my own mortality–the frustration that there were things hidden in books that I would never know, taunting me beyond the wall of time. This led to two reading decisions:

  1. If it doesn’t grab me by page 100, I won’t bother finishing it;
  2. Fiction is a waste of time.

That last one I don’t always stick to, of course–there are times when I crave a good spooky story, and there are writers of fiction who simply must be read. Nonetheless, I had to make an assessment of what books are worth that precious investment of finite life, and I decided that I get more out of non-fiction.

My point, and I do have one, is that there’s now a “reading” section over to the right. I’m not an Amazon affiliate, but you may occasionally see an affiliate link. This is because I got lazy and pasted in the link I got by searching with Andre’s Nutshell toolbar. That doesn’t bother me, and I’m pretty sure Andre wouldn’t mind either.

2 Responses to Reading

  1. Zach says:

    Fiction is a waste of time? Blasphemous! Of course, I just started my second year of reading “Lolita” (I read numerous books while working on that one). Well-written but tedious.

  2. Cat says:

    Fiction is a waste of time? Blasphemous!

    Heh, I’ve heard that a few times, and I understand the sentiment. I have a nasty habit of breaking things down logically–even something as complex as choosing what books to read. I looked at what I’d read in my lifetime, and what I’d gotten out of it. From each non-fiction book–usually even the bad ones–has come some bit of understanding, some new way to do something, some deepening of my thought processes. From fiction–the really good stuff only–I get the delicious memory of beautiful prose, and the turned key of a fresh thought.

    Both are valuable, but my odds are better with non-fiction. *shrugs* If I were immortal, the question wouldn’t come up.