Pooh nodded thoughfully.
“What’s this you’re writing?” asked Pooh, climbing onto the writing table.
“The Tao of Pooh,” I replied.
“The how of Pooh?” asked Pooh, smudging one of the words I had just written.
“The Tao of Pooh,” I replied, poking his paw away with my pencil.
“It seems more like the ow! of Pooh,” said Pooh, rubbing his paw.
“Well, it’s not,” I replied huffily.
“What’s it about?” asked Pooh, leaning forward and smearing another word.
“It’s about how to stay happy and calm under all circumstances!” I yelled.
“Have you read it?” asked Pooh.
Foreword, The Tao of Pooh, Benjamin Hoff.
Every time I read it: the first page cracks me up.
Scholarship hath no fury like that of a language purist faced with sludge…
William Zinsser, On Writing Well 30th Anniversary Edition, p38
Hee. Also: word.
This week. Woo.
Where I’m relatively sure I’ll be spending a decent amount of money in the coming weeks, months, years. The shop is pretty big featuring hardwood floors that creak and bookshelves requiring tippy-toe viewing.
Lucky (?) for me, I got there last night 45 minutes before closing. I managed to leave with only 3 books:
(I read The Corrections in college, but my hardback copy has disappeared and fall seems like a good time to re-read it. We also read House of Leaves in that class [kind of an intense class; we also also read Delilo’s The Body Artist], but I haven’t worked up the nerve to re-read that one just yet. Perhaps once I make it through Infinite Jest.)
- Word to the book(shelf) stalking.
- I don’t quite understand why this continues to be framed as a set of mutually exclusive options, the Kindle vs. regular books. I like (d) all of the above.
Bait and switch
As much as I’m annoyed by Kindle samples of which fully half are tables of contents and dedications (really?), so am I annoyed with full-length books of which fully one-third is source notes and lack section/chapter demarcations in the progress bar!
I’m glaring, exhausted, at you, 1776.
The writing clearly signaled end-of-class wrapping up, but the progress bar promised another 30% to go. Then boom: acknowledgements and source notes.
I wait for Henry.
Where I read The Time Traveler’s Wife:
- my chair by the window, listening to the Friday night bar patrons babble and order from the hot dog guy
- my hallway in the path of a fan
- Starbucks surrounded by the murmur of 50 or so others lost in their own air-conditioned pursuits
Started it Friday night, finished it tonight. It’s been awhile since a book compelled me to read into the wee hours.
It’s quite good and it earned that ending — I’d tell you what it reminds me of, but you should get there on your own.
Thursday. (soon to be supplemented with Maker’s & ginger ale.)
Friday. Working from home. Lunch.
Tuesday evening, addendum!
Tuesday evening.
The hope! The guilt! The quest for shelving!
Sarah Vowell, “Shakespeare Wrote for Money: An Introduction” Found via the always awesome tiffehr.
I distilled my book collection down when I moved. The introduction of the Kindle along with the established presence of the library has begun to regrow that collection. I haven’t bothered trying to figure out the rules for downloads (Percy Jackson & The Olympians [so. fun.]), borrowing (Cormac McCarthy), and purchasing (Joseph Campbell, David Foster Wallace), but I am thoroughly enjoying navigating all avenues.
More input!
Bookish.
Despite my love of reading: I get sleepy and nod off 10-20 minutes in¹, regardless of material. Until yesterday. All told, I spent 5-6 hours reading Physics of the Impossible and never once felt Morpheus’s tug. (I finished The Soloist² on Saturday, but I was also watching a soccer game, so I had no chance to nod off.)
Got my fingers crossed this not nodding off continues.
¹ In case you wondered (hush, you did): this started in college. Not great for an English major. Oy.
² It was the trailer that got me to read the book, but now I kind of think I shouldn’t see the movie.
