Wednesday, January 31, 2018

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I took a brisk walk with a dear friend this morning.  I feel good because my older daughter sent two photos yesterday and she's feeling better and was able to hike with her boyfriend.  I also can plan for her daughter's grandparent trip with us in June.  The sun is out and though the drought is eating away at us underneath, things look good.  My friend and I exchange books and it's fun to share with her, as we generally like the same writing.  I'd lent her a SciFy book, Good Morning, Midnight, and she and her husband really enjoyed it.  I don't read much SciFy.  I do love Ursula Le Guin, Sherri Tepler, and Octavia Butler, and once in a while I come across something, like Station Eleven, that I adore.  But I'm more of a mystery gal.  I love the little lending libraries on almost every block, where you can take a book or add one.  I often stop and see what's inside, though I seldom take anything.  I'm trying to whittle down my bookshelves, and donate to a no-kill animal shelter.  It's been surprisingly difficult to let go of books I'll never read again, either because I have fond memories of who I was when I read it, or because I know it's an important book.  But really, nobody has hired me to preserve the literary legacy of humanity.  And my kids have such eclectic tastes and don't necessarily want to read them.  But I have categories I do keep:  my very favorite writers, African American writing, Hispanic writing, Asian writing, South Asian writing, feminist books, Buddhist books, and Native American books.  Those take up one room, and then, well, the art books.  They fill another room.  Yes, definitely, some culling of the books is a fine idea.

1 comment:

  1. I loved Station Eleven,too, and I generally don't enjoy science fiction!

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