i tried cram-reading one more to make it 10 books but at the rate i’m going, i don’t think i’d be able to finish before the year ends. so i figured i might as well do this: my blog’s tradition of signing the year off with a post about books that i have read within the year (very nerdy, i know.) — all of which were bought because gayle’s too far away to borrow (and accidentally lose) books from. and these days, nobody really gives anybody books anymore. which is good in a way because i reckon books are a matter of personal choice.
i remember when my older sister once commented that she found gabriel garcia marquez’s one hundred years of solitude so boring that she didn’t even bother to finish reading it. i was sincerely scandalized. i could feel my already big eyes getting even bigger as i thought, “are you f*cking kidding me?!” (for the record, i read that book about six times.)
but you really can’t hold it against people. you just can’t.
it’s funny how one’s literary preferences is a reflection of where they are in life. girly mentioned that lately, she’s into self-improvement books. something i can relate because i also find myself gravitating towards books which i feel can help me in some areas of my life. books i never would have given second notice 10 years ago. i wasn’t ready then. i had a totally different mindset. not that i’m saying i’m completely mature now but, you know, i can’t deny that i’m getting old-er. i need to make up for lost time.