BACK TO THE BOOKS

Not just blogging, but reading had taken somewhat of a back seat, too. And now, that seems to be getting on track as well.

Re-reading some old favourites, discovering something new... What's on your book list?

AND HERE I THOUGHT IT WAS A ROMANCE

Love story. Historical romance. 

How about Novel About The Futility Of War instead? 

The first time I read Gone with the Wind, I was awed. Melted into a mushy puddle, even. Who could resist the charms of Scarlett, or the suave and dashing Rhett Butler? Not that I can even today, some multiple (in the range of 19) reads later. But with every read - and the passing years - it's come to mean so much more than just a romance that had infinite appeal to my (then) teenage self. It's like an onion, really - intricate, complex layers that you peel away each time, discovering something new along the way.

What starts off as a genteel romance is suddenly catapulted into an entirely different league altogether, and is symbolic of so much more. Note that I'm not siding/ opposing anyone here; it's just my understanding of a wonderful book. Neither am I going to get into should-we-fight-wars or why-can't-we-live-as-one or anything of the sort. There is always an opposite to everything, so I guess in some twisted, warped way, war is the way that is chosen(?) to counter peace.

I'm now at the post-war Reconstruction bit, and what Scarlett realises is so true - the war may have ended, but their troubles have just begun.  A battle, be it of any kind, leaves scars, most of which fade only over a long time - if at all they do. The energy one would have spent to safeguard themselves during the war is now expended towards rebuilding the tattered remains of life after. It's an uphill struggle, with pitfalls all along the way, and it's the survival of the fittest. These scars and the aftermath of war are felt for generations to come, in some way or the other.

As for the romance, that too changes. From schoolgirl to mature, Scarlett's relationships undergo a paradigm shift. From fun to calculated to deep and meaningful - the various shades are there for you to see, should you choose to.

I'm not sure there's any other book that I enjoy as much, each time I open it up. Back to reading, and possibly more observations as I go along...

WHAT'S IN THE BOX? A SMALL SLICE OF HEAVEN!

Or a book. Or two. Um, maybe three. Or more. And a similar amount of movies.

The day just can't get more perfect, the day an Amazon.com delivery comes in!

LIFE WITHOUT A GOOD BOOK

... is simply unimaginable. Oh, the horror. *shudder*

Currently on my bedside table/ in my over-eager paws:

- The Immortals of Meluha (super fascinating, unputdownable)#

- The Secret of the Nagas (need to finish Immortals first, this is the second part of the trilogy)

- The House of Silk (promising start; presently my second read*)

- The Interpretation of Murder (to be read after I'm thru' with The House of Silk)

- Tintin and the Secret of the Unicorn (light reading; my third read**)

* I normally read around three books at a time. Sigh. Yes, yes, I'm a nerd.

** Naturally, follows from the explanation above.





# Technically, on my office desk. Took a cab to work this morning, and didn't drive, just so that I could read en route. Bought myself a half hour of solid reading time. Hurrah!

DEBATE

This one's got to do with ebooks v/s 'real' books.

What's an ebook, anyway? So the dictionary definition may differ (more than) slightly, but essentially it's a lovely book that's taken and put into electronic form, with no way to feel the pages, cool and crisp to the touch. No way to hold the book up to the old olfactory glands and take a deep breath, and inhale the - if I may - aroma. Have you noticed how each book carries a different smell, has a personality of its own? A new book, all crisp white pages has a sharp tang, while an older book, slightly mellow, a warm, musky aroma? At the risk of sounding like I have (more than just) borderline OCD, let's move on... *cough* objectively.

Why would I read an ebook? Umm, speaking for myself, at the risk of sounding geeky and so not with it, I may not. Ever. As of now, I don't. Nothing, and I mean nothing, comes even remotely close to holding a book, turning each page over carefully, popping a bookmark into place, and then... re-reading it once done. Rinse repeat. At home, should you ever visit, you'll realise that I'm running out of space for mundane things such as linen, clothes, random odds and ends... and all because the books threaten to take over the apartment. It's a mutiny of sorts, really.

For the sake of argument, I do realise that reading something online, say right here in blogland, does come somewhere close to an ebook. It's not like you print these pages and read, right? Hmm. But I choose to ignore that. *looks away and whistles*

Convenience and things apart, I like my half hour of bedtime reading; there's nothing that puts a crazy day into perspective better. Unless it's a dog. Hmm. But I digress (as usual). Conclusion = no ebooks for me, not for a loooooooong time.

The dog is another story.