Saturday, January 28, 2012

O! Library!

Well, ever since the new year, when all the old leaves became irrelevant and it was nothing but new-on-new, in terms of leaves, and I was just turning them over and over, the leaves, nothing but good intentions!, I have been checking books out of the library like a madwoman (so that I could "Read all the time," or whatever the resolution was, exactly). Checking books out of the library, as readers of this blog know, is of late made super-cinchy because of the library robot and its machinations, now deliverable entirely through the interwebs. So first I saved up my lists of books, to wit:

  • Jo Nesbo bookery. Recommended by several.
  • A Karin Fossum book--Norwegian, policery, good if it's as good as the others. 
  • Another Scandinavian police procedural, picked up entirely on the merits of its Scandinavian author and its cover.
  • An entire John le Carre suite of Smiley books.
  • The first of the Mist-Born series, on Middlebrow's recommendation.
  • Game of Thrones. What? Is it trashy? I don't know.
  • The beginning book of a series by Sjodahl and Wahloo, recommended by Radagast.
And then I ordered the library robot to find and deliver them to my local branch library (library robotics part 1). And then I crept into the library like a ninja and checked them out without talking to NO ONE (library robotics part 2).

(Not my library's actual robot.)
Now: of the above books, I have completed, as in "read":
  • one Nesbo.
I am also partway through 
  • another Nesbo. 
In my defense, first I had to read some books of poetry for my book group, and that one French detective novel, and that one English detective novel, and also Mindy Kaling. And also Diane Keaton.

I am now receiving notices from the robot (library robotics part 3), reminding me that some of my books might be coming due, to wit: Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, which I had every intention of reading before I saw the movie, but whoops, too late. And there's the Nesbo middle, which I am still in! So I can't really start a whole other spy novel, especially when I have already seen the movie. I'm sure you see my dilemma.

Let me pause to deliver a short discourse on scarcity and excess: 

A Short Discourse on Scarcity And Excess.

Sometimes there is not enough of things, such as when I wander from room to room and say, "When will Fred Vargas/Arnaldur Indridasen/etc. write another book so I can read it?" This is scarcity, and it is intolerable, or nigh unto.

And sometimes there is more than enough of things, such as when someone says, "You should really read X," and I say, "Wait a minute while I dial up the library robot!" And as a consequence of the robot-dialing, there are piles of X, I mean books, the titles of some of which I am sure I'm forgetting, and I'm not sure where all of them even are in my house! and I have already seen the movie of some of them! That is excess, and I am in the middle of it, and don't even get me started on how much I may need or not a pair of pink ballet shoes, to go with my other ballet shoes, including my other pink ballet shoes, but not this particular color of pink. That is also excess, and I am (always already) in the middle of it. And it too is intolerable, or nigh unto.

Well, anyway, I am going to go dive back into the middle of Nesbo, because I finally got a running start at it and it's kind of exciting at the moment. At the moment, there is the exact right amount of Nesbo, and it is very good.


  1. I used to be deathly afraid of running out of books. This was in Portland, where Powells was nearby, and before the internet. I do believe I went to Grad School so I could winnow the list of books I need to read. Now, I fear I've overwinnowed. Where are the books of spring? Where are they?
    Erik made a book subscription for me for Christmas, so I could move away from the scarcity and back into the excess where I belong.

  2. I've had a weird reading experience this month. I'm suppose to read THE HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE DAME for another group I'm in.

    I know.

    I'm wondering if I have a crap translation or something, but I just hate it. It's been a chore to read. So I only read a few pages here, a few pages there. But whenever I've picked up another book, I've felt guilty. So I put the book I wanted to cheat with down.

    Which means I have only read 70 pages this month. And usually January is my kickass reading month.



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