When we were little, my Mom would get us out of her hair by annoyedly saying, "Go read something." It worked. Too well. We grew to be absorbed in books, so absorbed that she'd eventually yell, "Get your nose outta that book and (whatever she wanted us to do)!"
Reading has remained my favorite activity. Books have a sort of migration pattern in my home. New and unread books pile up on my nightstand, where they are eventually read in order of urgency (library books first, natch). The ones I'm very attached to stay there until I have a clearing fit. The really beloved may never leave the nightstand (there's a pile of Game of Thrones and Led Zep books there now). From there they go to the sitting room to join a stack on my desk or a tabletop or be shelved in a bookcase. Years down the line, I may get rid of a few, but only the extraneous. Books, like music, mark times in my life. I'd sooner lose a kidney than some of my books.
The Guardian has reformatted its webpages, which means little. What matters is what you find in them. And this weekend, the "Books" page has lots of goodies. This is what originally drew me to the Guardian, its excellent books section. Much better than the NY Times.
500 new fairytales were found in Germany, compiled by a compadre of the Grimm Brothers
An interesting podcast about factual fiction and fictionized facts:
Characters sometimes reincarnate in surprising ways
Have a weird ebook you want promoted?
The story of a bookstore and a ubiquitous poster
The poem of the week
Ladies, take note
They Are Our Son-Shines
1 day ago