For the past six months or so I've been going to the library over the occasional lunchtime. It's next to the mall where a complimentary shuttle bus runs back and forth from my office building. With the ride there and back, I get about forty minutes to browse. Now, if you're anything like me, that's a lot of books to consider in the space of forty minutes. Oh yeah sure, you probably have a running list of "to reads" and can be in and out within the space of ten minutes. I'm just not that organized. And I like spontaneous decisions (though there are those who would probably say I've made one too many of those). But I do like the idea of a book just making itself known to me – of my hand settling on it and me reading the back cover and deciding, "yes, this is the one I'll read this week."
So before Christmas, I'm standing in the library feeling a little pressured by the forty minute constraint, when I decide I'll just stick to the first letter of the last names on the shelf in front of me. I'll exhaust my interest in the "O" section before moving on to another letter. Hence my running reading list posted on facebook looking something like this: O'Hagan, O'Hagan, O'Neil, O'Brien…
Edna O'Brien. Now this writer can weave life into a story. I'm savouring every word and every marvellous drawn out sentence. Lately I'm wishing the morning ride to work could be a little longer so I can get a few more pages in.
And thinking that spontaneous decisions are way good.