i usually reserve this post until the very last days of december, just in case i finish reading a book at the last minute. but i doubt if i’ll pick up another book this week; let alone read it as ferociously as a rabid dog.
none of these books were borrowed or given. all of these i bought at — where else? — booksale. i love that store! i could go in broke and come out even broke-r, if there is such a word. i’d rather starve than pass up the opportunity to buy second-hand books at really low prices. especially if i find one with the oprah label. i like oprah’s taste when it comes to books. but, of course, i don’t just blindly buy whatever she recommends. i read the synopsis. after which, i read the first two or three lines of the first chapter. i’m kind of partial to the tone of the narrator’s voice. i can’t explain it but i always look for the lines that would, you know, draw me in. doesn’t matter how. they just have to intrigue the hell out of me.
and no, i don’t like books with highfalutin words. i’m not exactly proud of my range of vocabulary. i find it exasperating when authors show off just how many fancy words they can dish out in a single paragraph and i’m there wondering what the hell all of them means. i want communication. i want the characters to speak to me in a way that i can appreciate and understand. like a personal conversation with a friend instead of a supposedly therapeutic one with a shrink.
because, really, isn’t that what reading should be all about?