Reading

I read a lot.

I'm a librarian and I read.

It's almost too cliche to claim, somewhat like adoring cats or knitting scarves or wearing buns in your hair, yet I've come to grips with it. Walking past the small fiction section in our library last week, I realized that I truly love books. If I didn't work in a library, I'd still spend a great deal of time there. The stories of thousands of generations are housed in one building; the lives of myriads available, adventures to discover and emotions to feel.

Lately, I've been enjoying The Boleyn Inheritance, an historical fiction novel about the court of crazy King Henry VIII and his wives numbered 2, 4, and 5 (Anne Boleyn, Anne of Cleves, and Katherine Howard).

The book, however, was too cumbersome to lug to Chicago, in a backpack or my purse on a train, so I stowed it in favor of an old classic: Redwall.

Some of you may remember the animal fantasy world of Brian Jacques, author of this phenomenal series. I hadn't touched one of these since I was 10 or 12, and opening it up, reading the names, so distant yet so familiar, was like coming home to a warm cup of soup and a fresh loaf of bread still steaming from the oven. Simply wonderful.

Elaine lent me some Annie Dillard, as I've never read any works of length by her and have always heard great things about her. I'm excited to dive into her well-constructed sentences and stories. There's nothing quite like reading something by a true crafter of words.