More thoughts on the books I’m reading

So I opened my Goodreads to add a book I’ve finished reading to the shelf and

nowreading

That’s, uhh, that’s a bit more than I was expecting. That’s a lot of books. I don’t usually read a lot of books simultaneously; I zoom through one and if there’s more to the pile, move on. This is probably the most I’ve shuffled at any one time.

But I admit my reading has been erratic the last few–last few months actually. I seldom have the time or place or situation to read. And when I do,  I have that sick of feeling of reading non-textbooks as a waste of time. It’s getting easier to put a book down, getting harder to be patient with a curving narrative. It’s, well, it’s not a thing I’m happy with.

And look at those books! I might need to pick up something more light-hearted eventually. These books are killing me.

Anyway, I didn’t start up this blog post to digress. On to the thoughts:

The Stranger by Albert Camus

The book I have just finished reading, mostly in one sitting, after two hours, because the book is my brother’s and he’ll want it back. I think different people will take this in entirely different ways. For one, I sympathize with the main character, can relate with in some ways. In much the same way as I did with Murakami’s works, I’m glad of reading it, even though I didn’t think it enjoyable, but can’t really find a way to recommend it.

Homage to Catalonia by George Orwell

Also my brother’s, so am trying to zoom through this one but gloriously failing. I’ve always liked George Orwell, and the fact that this one is a memoir, well, you might not be able to tell just from reading it. It’s honest but with a lot of humour in it. Orwell must have a magnificent memory or lots of magnificent diary entries. But I guess that’s life; the little details can stick with you.  The book is best to be taken slowly, in long relaxing sips (much to my brother’s annoyance; I’m taking my time with it).

The Beautiful and the Damned by F. Scott Fitzgerald

I am unashamedly a fan of F. Scott Fitzgerald. There’s something in his writings that is unrelentlessly honest though extravagant in their own ways. Some of the thoughts in this book hits way too close to home for me. Although it winds up and down and drags a bit, enjoying the sound of its own voice, it’s enjoyable enough.

Trigger Warning by Neil Gaiman

Neil Gaiman is my favourite author, period. Haven’t been very far into this short story collection, but I alredy feel like I’m going to take this slowly, trying to make it lasts a while.

The Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Who fanfics intrigues me.

Rendezvous with Rama by Arthur C. Clarke

A leftover from when I was working on a paper about science fiction. The science is pretty hard in this one. It even had multiple interludes where scientists bicker with each other. Woof.

Honestly, I think it’s interesting, but I really can’t get into it. The characters feel detached, and I keep getting confused of where they are in the alien structure. That might just be me though. I’m terrible with spatial and visual descriptions.

It also piles mysteries after each other without any indication of a conclusion. I heard the ending is pretty bullshit, but I haven’t got there. Take it with a grain of salt.

Neuromancer by William Gibson

Not on my Goodreads shelf yet for, uhh, reasons. Also a leftover from my paper, I was only going to skim through, get a feel for the original cyberpunk, but I ended up enjoying it, though not enough to be sure I’ll read the whole thing. It’s a mess to read through, but I can get into it much easier than I do Rendezvous. It’s just more my kind of thing.

A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess

A mess. A complete, glorious, linguistically baffling mess. I know next to nothing about Russian, and most of the slangs reach out there. I think I would be more comfortable if the Nadsats are more into, say, Japanese than Russian. But at current, I need a dictionary. I confess I skimmed through it, didn’t read the whole thing, but from what I can comprehend, it’s not very, well, groundbreaking.

Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea by Jules Verne

I love Jules Verne, but I guess not for his writing. Still sick and tired of reading 19th century literature. I do like reading this one, but it might take a while.

The Large, the Small, and the Human Mind by Robert Penrose

I’m honestly considering waiting until my second year of college before continuing, just so I can fully appreciate Penrose’s fanboyism.

Anak Semua Bangsa by Pramoedya Ananta Toer

Pram is one of the best writers from my home country. Folks have translated his works to plenty of languages. If you see any if his works in a shelf, give it a try. He’s good.

Which is a way to distract myself fron saying oh god this book has been on my shelf for so long what am I doing with myself.

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