For the next few days I’m going to concentrate on finishing up Boethius’ The Consolation of Philosophy as I find it at a point where I need full attention to the logical pattern of argument that Philosophy presents in Book IV. I find myself going back and rereading a Prose because while I follow the theory, I find that I do not agree–logical progression notwithstanding. More on this tomorrow.
Another decision I’m consciously making is to approach reading in a learning and study manner; thus, the classics of literary fiction will be my focus rather than the latest bestsellers. I realize that this makes my reviews such as they are, outdated, but reading has always been done for my own pleasure, and except for textbook requirements of academic semesters, I’d rather seek out what is a) good for me to read and b) almost guaranteed good reading as recommended by endurance in the literary world. It stands to reason that for my purposes, anything good is going to be pleasurable as well.
Most likely I’ll still pick among the books I have waiting; there are three McCarthys, four Munros, two Peter Taylors, two Faulkners, three Atwoods, and a half dozen other novels amid the short story collections and maybe twenty literary journals.
But oh, how I wish I’d gotten the latest Marquez, or a Vonnegut or Wolfe to pull out now from the pile!
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology