I really love reading. Like, it's in my top 20 favorite things to do in the whole world.
Unfortunately, I often don't make time for it at home, and so a bulk of my reading tends to be when I'm traveling, and especially when I don't have access to an internet connection: so, largely on planes and trains and buses, and also in hotels.
My fantastically smart sister was all up in my grill that I should get a tablet or e-reader. I balked for months, since I already have enough gadgets and technology to power a small island nation, and as it is sometimes end up taking several different devices (and chargers, and accessories) with me on trips. But I also like to travel light (a recent three day trip from Atlanta to Washington, DC, to Baltimore, and back, was all contained in my old Camelback Blowfish, but at the cost of not taking my netbook, and so having to do all of my computing on my phone. (I know: First World Problem.)
Anyway, I finally broke down and got one. E, you were damn sure right: I love it.
To illustrate how much of my reading occurs while traveling and in hotel rooms: through mid-August 2013, I had read 12 books, for a total of 3819 pages. While in Dubai for about 5.5 days, I read another six books, for an additional 1789 pages.
By far the worst book that I have actually finished this year was New York Times bestseller (for more than two and a half years) and New York Times Notable Book of 1997, Under the Tuscan Sun: At Home In Italy, by Frances Mayes. I usually try to make a few notes after the book entry when I put it in my journal, and my notes for this book are "weird, affected, neo stream of consciousness blathering". I can't claim to be the only one to feel this way. At greater length, this Amazon reviewer hits the nail on the head (no pun intended.) So does this reviewer:
So does this one:
Unfortunately, I often don't make time for it at home, and so a bulk of my reading tends to be when I'm traveling, and especially when I don't have access to an internet connection: so, largely on planes and trains and buses, and also in hotels.
My fantastically smart sister was all up in my grill that I should get a tablet or e-reader. I balked for months, since I already have enough gadgets and technology to power a small island nation, and as it is sometimes end up taking several different devices (and chargers, and accessories) with me on trips. But I also like to travel light (a recent three day trip from Atlanta to Washington, DC, to Baltimore, and back, was all contained in my old Camelback Blowfish, but at the cost of not taking my netbook, and so having to do all of my computing on my phone. (I know: First World Problem.)
Anyway, I finally broke down and got one. E, you were damn sure right: I love it.
To illustrate how much of my reading occurs while traveling and in hotel rooms: through mid-August 2013, I had read 12 books, for a total of 3819 pages. While in Dubai for about 5.5 days, I read another six books, for an additional 1789 pages.
By far the worst book that I have actually finished this year was New York Times bestseller (for more than two and a half years) and New York Times Notable Book of 1997, Under the Tuscan Sun: At Home In Italy, by Frances Mayes. I usually try to make a few notes after the book entry when I put it in my journal, and my notes for this book are "weird, affected, neo stream of consciousness blathering". I can't claim to be the only one to feel this way. At greater length, this Amazon reviewer hits the nail on the head (no pun intended.) So does this reviewer:
Verbose, cliché-ridden, superficial, and materialistic, this book stars not Tuscany but Frances Mayes, who treats Italy like a gigantic mall. In her view, Italian architecture, food, wine, art, history, and even people exist only as products to decorate the author's personal Disneyland.
So does this one:
This book was a horrendous waste of precious free time. Mayes is pretentious, boring, and a bad writer to boot. I have no idea why the book was so critically acclaimed.
No comments:
Post a Comment