Lately, I have a dilemma. I want to read. I understand--entirely--that this does not make me unique or special in anyway. But it is noteworthy since I haven't felt the urge to put my eyes to a printed page since college graduation. What can I say, books and me needed a vacation from one another. We had reached the point of saturation.
These days, I just can't get enough. I used to make these crazy lists of all these books I want to read and I find myself doing that. Ambitious, I know. My most recent list includes:
-All of McCarthy
-All of Russo
-All of McMurtry
-All of Charlaine Harris (exclusively Sookie Stackhouse)
-All of James
At the rate I've been going--specifically the rate since graduation until, well, now--this list would take me the rest of my life. Which brings me to a point that I have not wanted to accept or acknowledge: does anyone really enjoy McCarthy and find him easy to read? The Road was truly spectacular. Loved every word. But Blood Meridian--my only other diversion down this dark road--was a challenge. I will admit, it's profound sprinkled with moments that are truly remarkable. But it was a struggle. Anyone? N-E-1?
What sparked this reconciliation? I was Wikipedia-ing one day--a favorite pastime--and wandered over to Anne Rice's page. I discovered that she is a "reverted" Catholic Christian and that she's written a book about it all. I was intrigued, as I often am, to hear other people's reasons for choosing faith and spirituality. I dashed off to the library to pick up this book and went home with Texasville, We Were the Mulvaneys, and The Painted Veil. Thus, we were reunited.
The Painted Veil is delightful by the way. Maybe will add 'All of Maugham' to my list?