#23 & #31

The reading goes well. I'm through two books so far, A Room of One's Own (#23) was yesterday's and Gilead (#31), which I just finished tonight. Both were excellent and full to bursting with personality. I wish I had read A Room of One's Own sooner - occasionally I think I have read a book when, in fact, I have not. I end up having this completely logical and well laid out concept of the plot and characters, none of which has much of anything to do with what is actually written between the covers. Virginia Woolf made me sad, though, every time she pointed out something painfully unjust and I was forced to realise that some things have not changed as much as they should have since 1928. That type of "life of the mind" coupled with the freedom to speak the self-same truths is a dangerous combination. Or at the very least, a very lonely one.

Speaking of loneliness, Gilead was a very delicate, sparse and well-crafted book as well - if for completely different reasons. It was a gorgeous testament to intelligent faith (though having written that there are now a whole group of people who will avoid the book for that very reason). Sections of the book were clearly deeply personal, developed from a significant and ongoing engagement on the part of the author with an internal theological dialogue. There are good reviews of it on the web, the NY Times does a good job for the curious and/or undecided.

Next up I'm thinking of something dirty, gritty and nasty - just to keep things interesting. Perhaps #10 or #26?

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