Literature

At the end of a long day, after I’ve put Margot to bed, I like to grab a good book and read until my eyes feel heavy and I know it’s time for me to pack my bags for the “land of nod”. I normally enjoy reading non-fiction. As I’ve blogged about before, I often take books on history, politics or international relations out from one of the local libraries. I save the most interesting books for my book club with my father and brother.

Fiction is trickier. I have three categories: my guilty secrets, my basic reads, and my serious investments.

My “guilty secrets” are generally science fiction and fantasy books paperbacks. Think the Harry Potter series, for example. They’re fun to read and are pure escapism. I don’t read this category of books too often but when I do I tend to go on a little binge.

My “basic reads” tend to be best selling books by well-known authors. For example, I recently read Margaret Atwood’s The Year of the Flood. I was less than impressed with this book, which I found to have certain imaginative elements but poorly executed. Basic reads can be enjoyable but they also tend to be forgettable.

My “serious investments” are books that inspire thought and contemplation and which I may read more than once. My most favourite books tend to fall in this category, which are few and far between. Unfortunately, what I hope is a “serious investment” often turns out to be a “basic read”.

 
My most recent book is Anna Karenin, by Leo Tolstoy. I’ve only read one hundred pages but I’m enjoying it immensely; it somehow manages to be both funny and sad at the same time, although I can sense a looming catastrophe on the horizon. In any event, it’s brilliantly written. Take this passage for example:

The two friends were silent all the way to the restaurant. Levin was wondering what the change in Kitty’s expression had meant, alternately assuring himself that there was hope for him, and falling into despair, clearly seeing that it was madness to hope; but yet feeling himself another man since her smile and the words Au revoir.

Or this:

Five minutes later Kitty’s friend the Countess Nordston, married the previous winter was announced. She was a thin, highly-strung ailing woman with brilliant black eyes and a sallow complexion. She was fond of Kitty and her affection, like that of every married woman for a young girl, expressed itself in a desire to see Kitty married in accordance with her own ideal of happiness;

It definitely has the hallmarks of a “serious investment”.