This sudden reversion to reading real paper books is just so pleasing, and surprisingly surprising. And, I love the fact that I am actually reading books from my to-be-read bookcase – yes, a whole standard bookcase, taller than me, full of real goodies. It’s been years. In the last few weeks I have had in my hands: The Somnambulist by Essie Fox, Blindness by Jose Aramago, We Need New Names by NoViolet Bulawayo, and Autumn Voices edited by Robin Lloyd-Jones…still to finish the last two. I usually always read poetry in this form so there’s no need to mention them here.
One of the best things about this is I get to now pass the books on and someone else will have the pleasure of them. All of the above are so different from each other: The Somnambulist is a long, slow and beautiful story but as you reach the half-mark you are then racing towards the end; and Blindness, is told in a cold, distant voice with no separated or denoted speech but it drags you in and the horror of the tale holds you in speculative thrall. We Need New Names is funny and charming in the beginning but is full of war residue, enough to break your heart. Autumn Voices is an inspiring read from 20 writers over the age of 70, talking about creativity and how it caught or was instilled in them. I am a very satisfied woman…and today I pick up NoViolet Bulawayo’s book and run to the end.