I was bad today, I splurged and went and bought more books. Which wouldn’t normally be a bad thing (books are good and the world would be a happier place if more people read more) except that I have two shelves with fifty-two (yes, 52) books on it that are still waiting for me to get to reading them.
But, I got a payment for some work today, there was a bookstore right across the street from my bank, and I had started reading the first book of a series on the bus this morning (“Shaman’s Crossing” by Robin Hobb) and had intended just to pick up the 2nd and 3rd books of the series when I went in.
I think at times that book stores to me are what liquor stores are to alcoholics: a temptation that can only be resisted if we just don’t go into the building because once it’s threshold is crossed, all hope is lost. (No offense to any alcoholics reading this.)
So I went, and I shopped, and I would have bought more then I did except they didn’t have a couple books I went and looked for. What I did get was: “Forest Mage” and “Renegade’s Magic” by Robin Hobb (to finish the Soldier’s Son trilogy), “And Then There Were None” by Agatha Christie (because I try to pick up a classic everytime I go book shopping), “The Man With the Golden Torc” and “Daemons Are Forever” by Simon R. Green (because I have enjoyed his Nightside series and decided to give this series a try), “Exile – And Glory” by Jerry Pournelle (I have enjoyed some of his other works though this was a pure whim purchase), and “Anathem” by Neal Stephenson (great author, though I still haven’t finished reading his Baroque cycle, really should finish those).
All in all, more then I should have spent on books. I mean, seriously, I have enough books to keep me busy for the next month or so if I spent all my free time reading (and I will likely spend a lot of it gaming instead).
What I am currently reading, at the moment, is: “Shaman’s Crossing” by Robin Hobb (just started it today, enjoyed the Farseer trilogy when I read it years ago, never finished the Tawny Man books because my ex-gf snagged them I believe, should re-purchase and re-read them someday), “Atlas Shrugged” by Ayn Rand (a far better story then I actually expected, I am only maybe 70 pages from the end but the next dozen or so are a big long diatribe that haven’t felt motivated to get through yet), “Colours In The Steel” by K.J. Parker (enjoyed the authors Engineer trilogy, haven’t made up my mind about this trilogy yet), “Quicksilver” by Neal Stephenson (the first of the Baroque novels, very good but paced such that it hasn’t been a good ‘bus read’ for me), “The Complete Sherlock Holmes” by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (my current classic that I am reading, in hardbound though so again I don’t take it on the bus with me very often).
Anyways, thus is my confession. If confession is good for the soul then I am a little less damned than I was when I started writing this. Or so my silly understanding of the cult known as Christianity tells me…