c. David Grim (taken 7/4/09)
Last time I went to Half-Priced Books I took hours to go through their inventory. I even had time to do something I normally don't do when I go there- I combed through the fiction section looking through every shelf for authors I was familiar with, or interested in trying out for the first time. This process was almost tedious by the end, and I took several cigarette breaks outside in the interim. I hadn't eaten before going there, so by the time I had a stack picked out I was light-headed to the point of dizziness.
When I got home with my purchases I stacked them in two piles on my living room shelf, and decided to just read them in random order, without deliberating about which one I wanted to digest next. Now I'm half way through.
I've discovered just how dissatisfying reading novels can be. It's not that I haven't enjoyed the bulk of them, but rather that after consuming as many as I have over the last 15 years, my standards for excellence are quite high. That's why when I find myself engrossed (as I am now with Richard Powers' "The Echo Maker"), I feel fortunate. Without providing an in depth review like I used to do on my old blog, I'll simply mention that it is about a man who gets in a car accident and manifests a rare condition called Capgras Syndrome. Look it up.