Last night I was reading The Night Circus for my book group, but midway through I got bored--I like the story, but the writing and characters weren't engaging me--and went to my winter reading pile. Sometimes I just want to spend the rest of my life sitting in a comfortable chair reading, getting up now and then to take a walk and make some tea. Maybe eat a sandwich, then back to chair and books.
Anyway, I have an ongoing infatuation with books about India and by Indian authors, and there are three in the pile--I was trying to decide whether to read A Suitable Boy, A Fine Balance, or The Satanic Verses, but I was kind of sad and none of them felt quite right. My eye fell on The Fault in Our Stars. It was written for young adults and the synopsis sounds depressing, and I don't remember why I bought it--I think I meant to buy The Dog Stars--but I stayed up until 4 a.m. reading it; it's sweet, sad, soulful, angry, funny, and the writing is damn near brilliant. It was just what I needed.
Today I spent time sorting through my books--I am giving away many (let me know if you want a surprise package of books) and selling some of the older ones. I need less stuff in my life. It's true that a 1919 book on the principles of floriculture makes my heart flutter, but I'm never going to actually read it.
"My thoughts are stars that I cannot fathom into constellations."
--- John Green, The Fault in Our Stars
I think I will read The Dog Stars soon. I wonder how many books have stars in the title, and how many of them I should read.