What I've been reading (off-line, that is):
“What kind of books do you read?” She asked me, as we sat sipping tea from glass mugs.
That particular question is always a difficult one for me to answer—
If the writing is good, I’ll read anything.
“Fiction mostly,” I replied, “Why?”
“It’s just you always seem to be reading such thick books,” she said. “The ones you take pictures of….they just look so long.”
I have a stack of favorites.
They are the kind of books that I like, and not all of them are tomes.
There is never one favorite, but always several; a few old favorites and a handful of current favorites that have caught my hand at the most present moment.
And, somehow, the few novels I’ve highlighted in the space would not make that list. The list of absolute favorites, of oh-this -ripped-open-my-soul-it's-so-
beautiful favorites, or I’ve-read-this-too-many-times- to-count favorites, punctuated by the occasional book that was Good. Just good. It is not a favorite, but I am glad I read it once, and you should too.
The list of absolute favorites:
A Severe Mercy, Jane Eyre, A Moveable Feast.
The list of oh-this -ripped-open-my-soul-it's-so-
The History of Love, Mariette in Ecstasy, Invisible Cities.
The list of I’ve-read-this-too-many-times-
A Farewell to Arms, Emma, Mrs. Dalloway, The Great Gastby, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.
The list of Good Books:
Mountains Beyond Mountains, Three Cups of Tea.
And I've most likely forgotten a hundred more.