I’ve been reading more lately. When I’m not writing, reading feels like a suitable replacement activity. Consuming a book feels more honorable than consuming a television program despite each having the same tangiable result: me consuming time; producing nothing.
I can recommend the Uglies trilogy by Scott Westerfeld, though he doesn’t need my word of mouth to keep that ball rolling. Garth Nix’s Sabriel, Lireal, and Abhorson books can be reread regularly–I expect to dive into his other works to see if those can as well. I’m four chapters into Boneshaker by Cherie Priest and am confident that will end up on my recommend list when I’ve completed it. Paulo Bacigalupi’s The Windup Girl gathers dust on a nearby half-read shelf with Ian McDonald’s The River of Gods and Gene Wolfe’s The Knight.
These last three are all good books. Well written, interesting, different. What they aren’t are ‘daddy candy’: books I can swiftly read without engaging my worn out father brain as I close the day. I fight between staying awake to read and just giving in to the comfort of a pillow. When a book can be a bit of a chore choosing the pillow comes easy.
The hiatus I hope I’m closing out with this entry ran longer than I’d expected. You may recall I announced it back in March or April. The new activities that nesscitated this gap haven’t ceased. I’ve habituated them to the point where I can bring daily morning writing back to the schedule. Though writing on the 5th of July–a holiday–is no real test of that schedule. If I’m here tomorrow then you know I’m squared away.