Yes, I missed Friday's Ephemera. Yes, I have not reviewed (or finished) a book in three weeks. I blame this failing partly on the start of a new quarter, partly on my recent preoccupation with, basically, thinking about what I want to be when I grow up, partly on simple laziness.
I have been reading, somewhat. I finally got back to the Obama book I was supposed to have read last quarter, and I'm even getting towards the end of it. I started one of the books I bought around Christmas, Mary Wesley's A Sensible Life, though it's been over a week since I read any more of it. I've also been reading the first draft of Sam Starbuck's new novel, Charitable Getting, which is being posted here chapter by chapter. It's very good, and very different from Nameless (which I reviewed here) and his other novels. And very entertainingly influenced by real life.
Once again I find it interesting how my reading comes in waves. Periods of inhaling books followed by barely reading anything, occasionally a steady plodding through one book (as with The Children's Book) in between. I know not everyone reads like this; for some, no amount of life can prevent always working on a book. I used to be one of those people. I think part of this change is that I relate to books differently than I used to. While books are still very important to me, I don't think reading is so integral to my personality as it once was. I'm made up of more parts now. I don't mind that aspect of the change, having more hobbies and interests and facets, but I do mind that I'm not such a voracious reader as I used to be. I often feel like I'm wasting time that could be spent reading. I kind of wonder if I'm reading the wrong books, if my interests have changed but my reading choices haven't caught up.
Enough musing, though. There's a nice comfortable bean bag chair in my room now, and one of those pretty star-shaped lamps above it, so I've finally got a good place to read without having to go too far afield. And maybe that's what I should be doing.