In the past two weeks (not counting the week on holiday cause I never get any proper reading in at Center Parcs as sharing a bedroom with Jake means no before-bed reading) I have read three - THREE! - books. This is how life should be. Actually getting things read, enjoying a book and loving it wholeheartedly while you're in it, then diving into the next one like a fickle lover. I have read The Witch's Trinity by Erika Mailman, The Owl Killers by Karen Maitland (very complemementary) and The Way of Wryd by Brian Bates. Hurrah! This, and more, is how much a person like me should be reading. I must stop dipping in and out of books and stories and stick with them. I love finishing a book now. Before it used to fill me with sadness, when I could see the last 50 pages within sight, I'd slow down and skid to a halt a lot of the time. Not wanting to leave the author's lovely world. But now even though I miss characters still, I remind myself I can go back if I want to and that sadness is only shortlived anyway because I can engross myself in a new world with the next book. I feel like I'm learning to read all over again lol. Falling in love with books and stories all over again. My non-fiction are still a bit distracting and I continue to put them aside for weeks on end, but learning is a different animal to entertainment.
My friend has just lent me Brida by Paulo Coelho and so I've started that now. It's a bit infuriating at the minute...I feel like it's being rammed down my throat. Not by my friend, by Coelho. And it's full of rubbish! I thought The Alchemist was a subtle book, maybe I remember it incorrectly. Or maybe he's just changed.
