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On the Choosing of Books
Dec. 4th, 2007 07:16 pmI just drowned in a cup of steaming coffee. And in a month or so, I will be drowning in a cup of Starbucks' steaming cappucino. It is always the very first thing I do when I arrive, locate a Starbucks and go be decadent. London calling <3.
Listening to "The Poet and the Pendulum" on the buss to school this morning, I actually wound up crying. I am amusingly easy to touch these days.
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"How do you choose which books to read?" I happened to read the Writer's block thing on the front-page of LJ, and it was inspiring, so I'll try to write something about it, I think.
How do I choose my books? I choose the ones that ensnare me: Nabokov, for his brilliant openings - "Dolly in slacks [...] but in my arms, she was always Lolita"-; Wilde for his wit; Foer for his absolute insanity; Lessing for her reliance; and Christie for a proper, almost degrading, treat of discustingly Belgian Poirot. (I would very much like to be described in a book, once. I would love to read, and know that that description is me, filtered through the minds of the insane – heads up, Rush and Quills –, or, if you prefer, of those touched with fire.) But how do I discover new books? I peruse them, pick them up or take them down, and then, I open them very carefully, so as not to make any marks. I ignore the quotes and snippets from other authors and reviews, they are never accurate, and instead read the back.
It is all, really, a matter of the hands. If the book fits - and you will know when it fits- there is nothing to do but buy it. There are certain things about a book that really fits: the weight is right, the colours, the smell, the impression and the associations of it. If, on the other, I am recommended a book, I base my deliberation on the recomender. Some, I know, have a knack for discovering good books, other find only the ones that turn out to be trash.
Listening to "The Poet and the Pendulum" on the buss to school this morning, I actually wound up crying. I am amusingly easy to touch these days.
------
"How do you choose which books to read?" I happened to read the Writer's block thing on the front-page of LJ, and it was inspiring, so I'll try to write something about it, I think.
How do I choose my books? I choose the ones that ensnare me: Nabokov, for his brilliant openings - "Dolly in slacks [...] but in my arms, she was always Lolita"-; Wilde for his wit; Foer for his absolute insanity; Lessing for her reliance; and Christie for a proper, almost degrading, treat of discustingly Belgian Poirot. (I would very much like to be described in a book, once. I would love to read, and know that that description is me, filtered through the minds of the insane – heads up, Rush and Quills –, or, if you prefer, of those touched with fire.) But how do I discover new books? I peruse them, pick them up or take them down, and then, I open them very carefully, so as not to make any marks. I ignore the quotes and snippets from other authors and reviews, they are never accurate, and instead read the back.
It is all, really, a matter of the hands. If the book fits - and you will know when it fits- there is nothing to do but buy it. There are certain things about a book that really fits: the weight is right, the colours, the smell, the impression and the associations of it. If, on the other, I am recommended a book, I base my deliberation on the recomender. Some, I know, have a knack for discovering good books, other find only the ones that turn out to be trash.
