The view this morning from my computer desk in The Dungeon. The rest of the house looks more or less the same, probably a little worse.
That’s all we have left at our current home. Just a week and a day. Then we move to Texas.
The whole house is discombobulated now, with packed boxes, half-packed boxes, packing materials, sorted and unsorted stuff strewn everywhere. If you’ve moved anytime recently, you get it. We haven’t moved since 2002. If you’ve downsized, you get it. We up-sized in 2002 and remained in accumulation mode, rather than decumulation.
Ah, well, decumulation began in 2020, when I decided I’d had my dad’s old tools for 22 years, had done nothing with them, and that other people needed them more than I did. I found lots of buyers on Facebook Marketplace. Before long, my garage looked better. With a little help from our son on one of his trips here, we even got to the point where we could get one car in.
Then I tackled the books, and between selling and donating them, we got rid of a couple of thousand. Before long, I moved on to paper items, digitizing my genealogy files and recycling the paper. Then on to writing files, making sure I had digital copies and back-ups, and again recycling the paper. All told, I was able to get rid of about 200 3-ring binders. The last 50 will go in our estate sale, each with a few tab dividers and sheet protectors in it.
I’m not sure whether I’ll get to post again from this side of the Red River, though I’ll try. If not, I’ll be back at it at some point. Y’all be good in the meantime.
One side of the blue sheet is letters already transcribed, the other side is yet to be done. I still have a long way to go. That’s how it was a couple of weeks ago. It’s slightly better now.
The only way I can describe what went on the last few day is they were filled with miscellaneous stuff.
On Monday, I had a regular cardiology appointment. Everything must be okay, because the P.A., who was a touchy-feely person, said some back in six months.
On Tuesday, Lynda had a regular cardiology appointment, rescheduled at the cardiologist’s request. We figure everything was ok, since he said to some back in a year. On the way home, we stopped in a convenience store and got some pumpkin spice coffee for Lynda and house blend for me.
Also on Tuesday, I wrote a letter to my youngest grandson, finished typing edits to my latest Bible study volume, and submitted a proposal to our pastor for a new lesson series for our Community Group.
On Wednesday, I had an appointment with my new orthopedic surgeon, replacing the one who I had already seen but who left that practice. He said my knee was pretty bad and that I was a candidate for knee replacement without having to go through further P.T. But I have to get clearances from five doctors first (cardiologist rheumatologist, neurologist, PCP, and dentist). I’m working on those. On the way home, as a reward, I splurged and got a large Dunkin’ house blend.
Also on Wednesday, at 10:15 p.m., Lynda said her heart wasn’t feeling right and she needed to go to the ER. We did so, getting home after 4 a.m. after whatever was wrong corrected itself without the need of medicine. I slept well, waking at 7 a.m. to go about my day in a somewhat zombie-ish fashion.
Which brings us to Friday. We have the pest control people coming at 11 a.m. At 2 p.m. we have a follow up to the ER visit with our PCP team.
All week I’ve been reading in J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Silmarillion. It’s a real slog. Thirty percent through and I’m getting nothing from it. I figure I should read this early mythology before I tackle The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, but if I’m not getting anything from it…. I suppose I’ll plow ahead for a while longer. Surely it will get better.
This week I’ve also done a little research on St. Lucia, St. Vincent, and Union Island in the Grenadines. The reason for this, apart from genealogy, will be revealed in good time.
Meanwhile, I continue my work of transcribing my father-in-law’s World War 2 letters. I now have 121 finished. The to-be-transcribed stack is still very large, still maybe 140 or so. Of course, that’s what I said twenty or thirty letters ago.
So it’s been a week of misc. stuff—filled with things to do, but without a nice rhythm. Perhaps next week will be quieter and better organized.
A few days ago, we were in Lake Jackson, Texas, visiting our daughter and her family. On previous trips, I took some of the grandkids to the planetarium as a small outing. The lady working the planetarium on the first of those outings was Lauri Cruver Cherian. We conversed a while, learned we were both authors as second careers, both members of local writers groups, and that neither of us lived in our native state. We connected on Facebook, and have kept abreast of each other since then.
So when I found out Lauri had scheduled a book launch event for her newest book, to be held in Lake Jackson at the same time we were planning to be there, I built my local schedule to have time to attend. While I’ve attended author events before, this was my first time to attend an official book launch. My reasons for attending were to support Lauri, also to get some ideas on how to do a book launch should I ever decide to do one for one of my books.
Reading from the book at the book launch
It was held at the Lake Jackson Historical Museum in the downtown area. I arrived about 25 minutes early, and was the first one there other than Lauri and a couple of workers. That gave me time to make a quick circuit of the first floor of the museum. It included well-presented displays, and I marked it as a place to come back to on a future trip for a full tour.
The book Lauri presented was Come On In, Don’t Be Lonesome [available at Book Baby and to be released 10/31/2025 at Amazon]. It’s a story based on events in her family history. Her grandfather ran a rooming house in the Seattle area (so she’s a transplant to Texas). Lauri read from the first chapter, and it’s obvious the book is seasoned both with salt and humor. It looks like it will be a good read.
I counted about 35 people in attendance, though it might have been a few more. I think she sold a good number of books, and was kept busy signing copies, her husband helping with the selling. Alas for her, I didn’t buy a copy. Our decumulation effort has resulted in my paperback book buying budget being $0. We have to see things leave the house, not come in. Possibly I’ll get an e-book copy.
Check out Lauri’s website. It has more information about her and all four of her books.
As for the book launch, it was extremely well done. Advertising by her and the museum no doubt generated the good attendance. Looking at the infrastructure she set up (four tables, one for selling, one for signing, two for food); banners; podium; sound system; computer with slide show going) made it all look rather daunting just thinking about all the work involved. I think I’ll still go with publishing my books without formally launching them.
The harvest is in progress, and a good harvest it is.
Today, on our Independence Day holiday, my work continues. I transcribed another WW2 letter, bringing the total up to 13. No end in sight, but a pattern for what the letters are is beginning to emerge. I went through at least 50 scan files, verified that I have them also stored and properly named in OneDrive folders, and so was able to delete the scan files. Then brings me down to about 1325 left to go through, or about five weeks of work. I think it might actually be less than that, because I’ve already skipped close to 100 files that I’ll be keeping.
I picked blackberries this morning, close to a pint, from less than half the plants and only getting the easiest ones to pick. Cut back a few of the new branches so that the paths between rows are more easily navigable, and raked up the cuttings. The harvest is plentiful. After the season is over, I plan on a major cut back of the bushes. I have four rows of blackberry plants that have sprung up naturally. With judicious cutting on my part and a bit of training, these are producing a good harvest for three years in a row. But it’s at least twice as many blackberries as I need. So after this year’s harvest, and when the weather cools off some, I’ll take two rows out completely. I’m actually looking forward to that.
I’m finding the book I’m currently reading a bit of a slog (I have a habit of picking those), but I’ll get through the last 65% of it, somehow.
Decumulation continues. On Wednesday, we drove to south central Kansas and delivered to Lynda’s brother all the Cheney photos we don’t plan on keeping. That included six large framed photos and a large painting of the Cheney homestead ranch in Meade County. Her brother can now decide what to do with them. Good riddance to one burden. It frees us up to work on photos from the other side of her family and finish those, hopefully within a month.
Today I edited a chapter in my Bible study. Only two chapters to go. Then, I think one more read-through at a normal pace to check for duplication or incomplete sections, with hopefully only minor final edits, and it will be on to publishing.
Last night we walked to the municipal fireworks display. We don’t live far from where they shoot them off, but a ridge, a valley, and lots of tall trees prevent us from seeing them from our house. Driving there and getting involved in that mass of traffic is a pain. So for the first time we walked to the top of the ridge, a little over 1/3 mile, and joined a hundred or so people who had done the same thing. I don’t really care about fireworks all that much, but Lynda enjoyed it.
So as you can see, I’m staying busy. Wouldn’t have it any other way.
Into he trash went my engineering seals, lead sharpener for engineering drawing work, and service anniversary pins.
The main work I’m doing now—work at home that is, but not including my writing and stock trading work—is shedding possessions in anticipation of future downsizing. It’s wearying work. Not so much physically wearying, but mentally so. For a couple of months we’ve been pulling books from the basement and listing them for sale on Facebook Marketplace. We’ve sold a fair number, though have many more to go.
We have cleared out a fair number of things. We donated 400 children’s books to a church function. With our son’s and daughter’s help, on separate trips here, we took at least three loads of donation stuff to Goodwill. That included some odd pieces of furniture.
Some day I’ll have to actually read this old probate document and see how it fits in with family history.
One thing I was doing, but which was delayed by my hospitalizations and recuperation, was scanning my genealogy papers, saving them electronically in a retrievable manner, and getting rid of the paper files. This week I got back to that project, and over three days got rid of around 50 sheets. Some of those sheets were probate records from Massachusetts in the 1600s and 1700s that I had my son research years ago. The sheets are difficult to read, and I don’t really remember how some of the people fit into our family tree. I’ll have to transcribe the probate documents and figure out exactly who the people are (ancestors or relatives). That’s something I can do from the electronic files better than the paper files, because I can enlarge the e-docs and read them easier. But when will I ever take the time to do this additional step?
You know dis-accumulation cuts deeply if I’m getting rid of Carlyle books.
Another thing that we did in the storeroom was pull out our daughter’s old bedroom set, unused for at least 10 years, and little used for 20 years before that. We snapped some photos and I listed it for sale. Only one person showing interest so far.
With the bedroom set pulled out and on display, this allowed me to reorganize stuff. I moved an old entertainment center and restacked stuff around it. That allowed me to see what stuff we have, and gave me an idea of what we can get rid of soon with the greatest reduction in volume. Those would be the old VHS tapes.
Some of the things I’m going through are cutting deep. In a box of things I brought home from the office, I found my professional engineer seals. It took me a few minutes to make the decision to put them in the trash. The seals meant a lot to me when I was a practicing engineer, but that ended close to four years ago (retirement followed by two years on retainer. I also found a large roll of discarded engineering drawings that I salvaged with the intent of using the backs to draw big genealogy charts. But I now know that’s not going to happen, so the paper roll is moved to recycling staging. Last week I tossed twenty-five years of continuing education certificates and a couple of stacks of my old business cards. Next will be my many organization membership and annual licensing cards.
One big space keeper is my old stamp collection. After years of storing it in the storeroom, I’ve decided to get rid of it. I don’t know if it has any value these days. Does anyone still collect stamps? Are dealers out there and are they buying? Or is it possible to find a private collector? So much work to do.
Downsizing, which requires dis-accumulation, has become more important now that I’ve had health issues. My recovery from heart surgery is going well (including three days a week in cardio-rehab), recovery from my last stroke less so. But clearly my health is not what it was a year ago. We’ve got to cut deeply into our possessions, got to. We are leaner than we were a year ago, and significantly leaner than we were four years ago. But we have much much more to do.
All this is quite wearying. Dealing with the genealogy papers is more wearying than anything. Each piece of paper I toss in the recycling basket feels like I’ve parted with something I should keep, something that someone among my descendants may want or benefit from someday. Ah, well, in the future the Internet will contain so many records and resources that my paltry files may have no value.
Tonight, after dealing with books for about an hour, I pulled two genealogy notebooks off the closet shelf and went through them. They were mostly forms for copying information on. I kept two of each kind of sheet and discarded the rest. I did keep any lined sheets without writing on the front or back (maybe 20 of them), as who knows what I could use them for someday.
This was a good read for me, but probably of little interest to most readers.
A few months ago, when looking for the next book I wanted to read. There’s no shortage of bookshelves in the house, plus a couple of dozen e-books on my phone. I wanted to read something I was fairly sure I would enjoy yet wouldn’t want to keep. I was in an obscure part of our basement, where we had a few dozen books on a shelf, and I spied the perfect book: The Letters of Virginia Woolf: Vol. 3.
I have no idea where we picked up this book (at a used bookstore or garage sale, no doubt) nor when (at least eight years ago). When I bought it (and it had to be me—Lynda wouldn’t have spent even 50¢ on it. And I knew next to nothing about Virginia Woolf other than a vague notion that she was a writer.
Pulling her letters off the shelf and diving into them caused me to do a little research on her. She was a British author of novels and prose. The period of the letters in this volume, 1923-1928. During this time Woolf wrote three of her novels: Mrs. Dalloway, To The Lighthouse, and Orlando. She was also writing articles and reviews for literary magazines and, on occasion, giving lectures.
And writing letters. The book includes 637 letters. That’s one letters every 3.5 days—and that’s just the letters that have been collected. No doubt she wrote other letters that the recipients didn’t preserve.
The letters were more personal than business. Many were to Woolf’s sister, Vanessa Bell. Many others were to a good friend from adulthood, Vita Sackville-West. Much of the contents we would consider gossip. Woolf was part of what is known the Bloomsbury Set, a group of authors and critics that met in the Bloomsbury section of London. Their heyday was 1905-1920 or so. Thus, this volume is after the days of Bloomsbury.
But Bloomsbury still played a part in in Woolf’s life. Many of the letters are to those who had been part of the Bloomsbury set. They talked about their writings and thoughts, but also about each other and about others in their set. Yes, gossip. And Woolf admitted as much in her letters. I read the book over July to Nov 2024, with an interruption of about a month due hospital stays and illness.
So I come down to my usual questions. How do I rate this book and why do I rate it thusly, will I ever read it again, is it a keeper, and do I recommend it to others. I give it 4-stars, mainly because I like to read letters as unfiltered history. I would have to say, however, that I’ve enjoyed other collections of letters more. I got through all 575 pages, but at times I would read a paragraph, and wonder what I had just read. Was it distracted reading by me or material in the letters that failed to hold my attention.
I don’t see myself ever reading this again, thus it isn’t a keeper. I also don’t recommend it. That is, unless Virgina Woolf is a literary study for you, or you just like reading letters—any letters. One warning if you do want to find and read this letter. My copy was a trade paperback, and it fell apart in two pieces as I rea it. So be gentle with it if you do read it.
The legacy books on the built-in shelves in the living room.
No, not sick of reading. I’m in the midst of reading two different books, one print book and one e-books. Actually, it’s 3 books. There’s one other one out in the sunroom that I’ve almost given up on. Maybe I’ll read a little more in that. And, when I’m done with these two, or three, I’ll transition into two more. Wait, it’s four. There’s also the book I read in the mornings for devotions.
The books on the left are waiting for the buyer to pick them up. The books on the right are waiting for reshelving.
No, not sick of writing books. This last week I finished the first chapter in my next Bible study. I enjoyed doing it, though after almost two months of writing nothing due to my health problems. And the two months before that I was writing at reduced capacity due to the two freak injuries I had in mid-July. So I’m having to get re-used to taking a portion of my day for writing. And working through my fine motor skills for typing. Yes, re-learning the elements of being an author.
Keepers to go back on a shelf, or possibly to be revaluated, but right now adding to the decor in the dining room.
No, what I’m sick of about books is selling them. You see, in the interest of a future downsizing, which after this year of health problems is much closer than we though, we decided to make a big dent in the 2 or 3 thousand books in our house.
That includes what I’ve been calling my legacy books, or more properly termed heirloom books. These include a large number of books published in the 1800s. This has been a lot of work. Looking up the books at on-line sales sites, deciding on a price, placing an ad on Facebook Marketplace, fielding queries, scheduling buyers in, dealing with no-shows, etc. It’s a lot of work.
Books on the dining room table.
I could also say gathering books from various places in the house. We had many boxes of books on shelves in the basement storeroom. Lynda was the one to identify the boxes and carry them upstairs (since I wasn’t allowed to go on stairs after my operation). Our daughter, Sara, also helped carry books upstairs while she was here. The basement is now much cleared of books. Yet, the bookshelves in the basement living room still have lots of books. We have no shortage of building material.
Books on the garage worktable.
The garage worktable is covered by boxes of Christian novels, mainly for women. The dining room table is covered with boxes of misc. books, a cross between legacy and modern books. All those are for sale. Then we have boxes of books in the living room and dining room that Lynda hasn’t yet made the keep/get rid of decision. We also have a pile of books on the hearth, waiting for the buyer to pick up, and another, smaller pile near of books we have decided to keep but haven’t yet looked where to reshelve them.
Why not just give the books away, you ask? It may come to that, especially with the modern ones. But for the legacy books, it seems a shame to not first try to get something for them. Some of them have been in the family for 130 years—first on bookshelves of some kind in the houses David Sexton rented, later in boxes in the boxes in the basement of the house I grew up in in Cranston, Rhode Island, then finally on the bookshelves or in boxes in our house. All that storage and transporting deserves compensation, don’t you think?
At some point, the inventory will be small enough that donation will be more likely. Or the few that are left will be manageable to keep. We’ve already done that with children’s books, 400 of them donated to our church for a special event.
But at some point, I’ll be glad for the dining room table to be clear, the living room clear, and the garage clear of book boxes and loose books to be gone, either sold, donated, or re-shelved.
The view from my woodland reading chair. Our house is to the left. Well in the distance is where the sound of the limb falling came from.
A few years back, we bought the unbuilt lot next to us, on the uphill side of our house. We got it for a good price and, based on current prices for lots in Bella Vista, it’s perhaps the most profitable investment we’ve ever made.
I’ve done some improvements on this lot, cutting down dead trees, cutting underbrush, clearing leaves from the edges to allow some grass to get a start. We have our compost pile on the lot (actually had it there before we bought it) and a well-worn path from the garage to the pile.
The woods directly in front of me. I’m keeping this are free of new trees and brush, though there are enough mature trees around it that the shade canopy is complete.
Along that path is my reading place. I don’t go out there to read often. Usually, I take my noon reading break in our sunroom. But it isn’t airconditioned, and this time of year it’s really too hot to read in. So on these days, I either read in the basement or out in the woods. I think I’ve gone to the woods most days this week (see the dateline), usually right around noon.
Isn’t it hot then, you ask? Yes, probably around 92°. But it’s shady. The oaks cover the path. I have a chair out at a level spot. A cut log set on end serves as a small table, leveled up with a wedge piece from a tree felling, to set my phone and cup of coffee on. By 1:00 p.m., the sun will have moved around further south and higher, and gaps in the canopy caused by the death of a couple of oaks due to a blight maybe three years ago. At that point I’ll have to move my chair or go inside.
Another view from my reading chair, looking more to the south and past our lot. Sunshine occasionally finds its way to the ground here.
Today I followed this procedure, but the temperature was a little cooler than recently due to rain yesterday evening. It was 92° with a nice breeze. In the shade of the oaks, I felt quite cool. I had a book and a magazine (an old one) with me. I decided to read the mag and try to get through it. Since it was from 2009, many of the articles were dated and not worth reading. Despite the distractions of woodland reading, I was able to read all I wanted in the hour and put it in the recycling bin afterwards.
What distractions, you ask? Just the sights and sounds of the woodland. And yes, even though our house is well within sight, when I’m sitting on our lot I’m in the woodlands. But most of the sounds are of human civilization. Take today. At first it seemed dead quiet, except for the sound the wind was making with the leaves. Then I heard a car door close, then another. Soon, I heard a lawnmower start and start to move. It sounded like it was coming from down the street at one of the two new houses. Then I could faintly hear a voice; probably one of the mowers.
Before the mower sound came, I watched a small lizard play near the edge of the driveway. A butterfly came by but didn’t stay. A fly somehow got in my coffee, but I fished it out and went right on drinking. I heard a mosquito near ear and swept it away. A vehicle made its way up the steep road across the hollow, somewhat faintly, around a thousand feet away or a little more. In winter, when the oaks are devoid of leaves, we can hear vehicle much clearer.
As the mowing continued, a vehicle came up the hill and passed by me, most likely without seeing me in the shadows. The view from the road into the woods is partly obscured by the first row of trees, some underbrush, and my blackberry vines. I looked back down the hill, into the woods. A bird flew silently across the lot thirty feet away from me.
Then I heard a crashing sound. Shifting my gaze to the north, I saw leaves and branches moving in the direction of the crash. It seems a branch fell from a tree behind our backyard. Maybe tomorrow I’ll go down there and see if I have new deadfall just off the property.
I continued reading in this distracted state. The magazine, the monthly publication of our Rural Electrical Cooperative, had a good article on one woman’s historic preservation work in Arkansas. That was quite interesting. Another article covered things that the State Legislature would be dealing with in the session about to start. But I kept looking up from the mag to see what was going on around me. I heard the sound of a squirrel but didn’t see it.
I looked around for WTBD—work to be done. Some underbrush needed more cutting. Leaves need to be pushed back a few feet more from the house, to widen the grass strip that’s coming up naturally there. Three trees, 6 to 8 inches diameter, fell near the south border of the lot. Someday, perhaps, I’ll saw them up and put them on one of my brush piles.
The sun was moving around to the point where I would soon lose my shade, then thin clouds partly obscured the sun. I decided I’d read all in the mag that was important, laid it on my log table, and took up my coffee. Perhaps you think it strange to take hot coffee out to woods to drink on a hot day, but I like the taste, and in the woods it’s not too hot to drink.
But my time was soon up. I:00 p.m. neared, and lunch beckoned me. The sights and sounds of the woods faded as I traversed the rocky path the 50 feet to the garage. Possibly I’ll return to my reading spot tomorrow for another hour with another mag or a book, and once again read distractedly but enjoyably. Cooler weather and the sunroom are not far away. Any place to read is a good place.
At over 900 pages, this promises to be an interesting book that I can digest in small junks during hospitalization.
About a week ago, when I thought my heart surgery would be today, I began going through books that I would want to take to read. It may be a pipe dream to think I can read much while in the hospital, but I want to be prepared. I’ve picked out one book on prayer and two books of letters. These are print books. I have a fair number of e-books I can easily pull up on my phone.
One book of letters is The Letters of Virginia Woolf. Vol. 3, 1923-1928. I picked this up used quite a few years ago and kept it on a basement shelf, waiting for the right time to read. Well, that seems to be now. It’s a thick paperback to be holding in bed. But the letters are, for the most part, short. I’ve read 40 or 50 pages into it to make sure it’s a suitable volume to read in my circumstances. So far I find it is.
I read a couple letters yesterday, and found an interesting item.
Importunate old gentlemen who have been struck daily by ideas on leaving their baths, which they have copied out in the most beautiful, and at the same time illegible handwriting, dump these manuscripts at the office, and say, what is no doubt true that they can keep it up or years, once a week, if the Nation will pay £3.3 a column. And there are governesses, and poetesses, and miserable hacks of all kinds who keep on calling—So for God’s sake write us something that we can print.
I need to add a little context. Virginia Woolf and her husband, Leonard, were part of a literary group known as the Bloomsbury Circle, or Bloomsbury Set, who had great political and literary influence in the first two or three decades of the 20th century. Leonard had just been appointed literary editor of The Nation and Athenaeum a magazine that dealt with British politics and English Literature. Virginia was, at that time, heavily involved in the Hogarth Press, print a variety of books. Leonard was also involved in that.
Thus, they were busy people. Virginia wrote a letter to Robert Fry on 18 May 1923. Leonard had been less then a month in the editorship, and the couple had just returned from a month-long holiday in Spain and France. Leonard’s plate was full, with coming up to speed at the magazine and dealing with book publishing. Complicating this appears to be a glut of unsolicited submissions to The Nation, submissions that Virginia, in her letter to Fry, considered as from “miserable hacks”. And she begged Fry to “write us something we can print.”
I find it funny almost that this is the same complaint editors have today. Too many submissions from unqualified writers crowding the mail and e-mail inboxes. Given the universality of typing now, they don’t have a lot of “illegible handwriting” to decipher, but reading those many submissions is not easy. Nor is it a good use of time. So most of those submissions go unread, or get shoved off to an intern with instructions such as, “If you’re still reading it after one page, put it in my inbox; if you’re still reading after three pages, bring it to my office right away.”
This should make all authors take some time before they make unsolicited submittals. The editors probably put you in the category of know-nothing writer, and expect nothing of publishable value from them. You’ve wasted your time submitting like that. Instead, take a long time to hone your writing skills, study the market, study the publishing outlets, study the realm of literary agents. Then, after however many years that takes, start submitting in a smart way.
I found it interesting that, in 1923, the problem editors faced was that same as they face today—with illegible handwriting thrown in. Technology makes the process easier, but the problem remains.
Elijah enjoyed this as I read it to him. I enjoyed reading it again. Found a few typos I’ll have to fix.
I’m always reading something: a book, a magazine, whatever holds my interest. At least once a month I try to make a dent in my magazine pile, and I’ll take a couple of days to read three or four magazines.
But books are my main reading. A print book is nice, but I’m not against e-books. In fact, at some times I prefer an e-book. On a trip, or with a large book, having an e-book on my phone is definitely easier to read.
I’m usually working on two or three books at a time, which I read in different places, with one of those books being the main one. I’ll have another one I’m beginning to read to see if I’ll like it. I’m also reading a book more for research than for entertainment. And, I’ll have an e-book or two at the ready on my phone, to read in odd moments, such as in a doctor’s waiting room.
But as of late, I’ve had difficulty finding a book that I like. Here’s what I read or started lately, and a little about them.
C.S. Lewis’s The Allegory of Love. I just started it, and within five pages I found it very difficult to understand. This is one of Lewis’s scholarly works, and it reads like one. I suppose I’ll find a way to read it, but with great difficulty.
Jack London’s White Fang. I brought this book on our recent trip to Texas, planning to read it to our youngest grandson, Elijah. I had never read it. But I got through only one chapter, and Elijah wasn’t interested. I also found it a bit difficult. So I set that aside. for the rest of the trip, and plan to read it on my own sometime in the next year.
I just finished two similar books: XIII Men, and The Master’s Men. They were among the books that belonged to my mother-in-law that we recently liberated from a box or shelf in the basement. The books were similar. The first read almost as creative non-fiction and the second as a Bible study. Two different treatments of the same subject, the apostles appointed by Jesus. They probably aren’t worth reviewing on the blog, though I’m thinking about it.
My own book, There’s No Such Thing As Time Travel. Elijah wanted me to read it to him, so I did. He hadn’t read it before, and he seemed to like it.
The second book in the series, The Key To Time Travel. Elijah and I got about 2/3rds of the way through it when our child/pet-watching gig was up.
The Letters ofCicero. Readers of the blog will know I love reading letter collections. I’ve had this one as an e-book for a long time, and I’ve been slowly reading it in those odd moments. I’m around 33 percent through with it. I’ve found it uninteresting, and have laid it aside for now. I plan on making a presentation of this letter collection at the September meeting of the NW Arkansas Letter Writers Society.
None of these books have been what I would call great reads. They aren’t the sort of book, for example, that I would take to the hospital for a week-long stay. I needed something else.
A few days ago, knowing I needed a book or two to take to the hospital, I started scanning my bookshelves. On a bookshelf tucked away in the basement storeroom are my literature and poetry books. I found several that looked promising. One was The Grasmere and Alfoxden Journals of Dorothy Wordsworth. I picked this up new many years ago, but put it on the shelf. Now, I pulled it out and began reading it.
A journal is kind of like a letter collection. The passages are short. The book is easily picked up at any point for a short read or, if time and interest allow, a longer read. So this looks like a good read for the days in the hospital. This will not be enough reading material, however. I have a few things on my phone, but will be looking for one more book.
How about you? What does your reading pile/list look like?
