Current Reads

So with all the work going on at work lately (including the added stimulus of the construction work going on in the building behind my desk... buzz buzz Crash) I've needed to chill out at home at night, which for me means picking up a good book and zoning out. Luckily my father, the book nerd that he is, has lovingly provided me with a large stack, as usual.

First there was With by Daniel Harington. I finished this one about a month ago and have since moved it from my nightstand to my home office shelf, but the images it implanted in me have not moved from my mind. It's about a little girl, kidnapped and taken away to live with her kidnapper high up on a mountain, so high she can't escape. He never brings himself to hurt her though, other than the initial stealing. Half the book is told from his dog's point of view, another part from a ghost's. It's a long read, but well worth it. I was slightly disturbed after I finished it, because it brings up a lot of touchy issues, but after it digested a bit, I think it will reign near the top of Most Interesting Reads for me.

After that I moved on to The Story of Edgar Sawtelle by David Wroblewski, but I wasn't able to finish this one. I think it will be good, and I will get to it, as I will get to the other ten books in the stack eventually, but it was too similar to With at the start, and I needed a break from seriousness.

For Christmas, my father-in-law, a fellow art lover, got me a subscription to Style 1900, a magazine dedicated to the Arts and Crafts and Mission art movements. Love it. It's inspirational and beautiful, makes me ohh and aww over pottery vases and oak chairs. About the time I had given up on Edgar, I got my new copy of this which entertained me for a week. I even read the ads in detail.

This past weekend my dad brought me The Optimist's Daughter by Eudora Welty. Shame on me, as a Southern woman, that I had never read anything of hers. Surprising too since I took both a high school class and a college course dedicated to Southern writers, both with large sections about women. Nonetheless, I opened it on Monday night, and have stayed up too late every night this week reading. She's dreamlike at one moment, lilting and swaying with her words, painting an Impressionist picture for you, and the next she's matter-of-fact and outright truthful. I have greatly enjoyed it, and not just because I know the places and the people about which she writes so well, like New Orleans and the humidity that makes you so wet you feel like you've been swimming in the Mississippi, and Bubba, the pallbearer who goes to a funeral in his windbreaker suit, swishing as he carries the coffin. 

I've given myself an hour at work to write this. My coworkers are all gone today-- business trips and sick family members have taken them away. I was, as they say, holding down the fort, but I gave myself an hour, and if no one called or wrote an email to me in that hour, I was going home. I take my computer with me and can forward my calls anyway. It's been 45 minutes. I think that's close enough. I want to finish my book today.