There is a great deal of difference between an eager man who wants to read a book and the tired man who wants a book to read.

Back again...

So, recent reading.

I've been away lately with my family - only just returned. This time I only took a few books with me and *trumpet blast* my kindle! Which is fantastic in terms of lightweight luggage, but not so brillliant considering I only have about 15 books on it at present, and those are free classics from google books and the book depository. So, of those I have been reading a great deal of G. K. Chesterton and a little J. M. Barrie. Chesterton wrote a ton of detective stories, plays, newspaper articles, Christian apologetics - but besides all this he wrote a ton of essays. 4000 essays. Seriously.
So of the two books of his that I finished, one was a book of essays. I don't agree with everything Chesterton says all of the time - I mean, for example, he wasn't in favour of female suffrage because none of the women he knew wanted it... whenever I hear that argument I just want to scream at the person, 'Dude! You need to get out more!' Like young artists who say they don't know anyone who isn't in favour of gay marriage. I mean, I'm not saying you have to change your opinion, folks, but please, please, be a bit more broadminded. The fact that you don't know anyone who has a different opinion doesn't mean yours is the only one - it does mean that you're limiting your experience of people to those that are just like you - and that's unhealthy.

Back to Chesterton. The man was a genius. Even when I don't agree with him (and I rarely disagree with him) his mastery of words and ideas nearly convinces me in spite of myself. Pure genius. And he had a fantastic sense of humour, which interweaves everything he writes. I can't really give you an idea of everything I read of his, so I can't critique it properly - the subjects ranged from politics to gender roles to economics to culture - without breaking stride. Go, find one of his books, and read it. I actually prefer the essays and apologetics to the fiction.


I haven't yet finished reading The Little White Bird by J. M. Barrie, but I am fascinated by it. I almost would like to hand it to a trained psycologist and get them to analyse Barrie's deepest darkest mind. If you've read any biographical material about Barrie, you'll understand.
That besides, it's quite a charming book, once you get used to the odd, sarcastic, introspective viewpoint of the narrator. The story is from the perspective of a middle-aged man who covertly watches a young woman go through the stages of courtship, marriage and motherhood, before becoming non-anonymously a part of her life through a friendship with her little son. It's strange. I'll have to read the rest before I can form a full opinion.


I'm also re-reading The Light Princess by George Macdonald, which is a beautiful 'light'-hearted but deep-souled fable. If you ever see a copy at the library or a bookshop, snag it for yourself and read it. Only 110 pages, but totally worth it. I have the Maurice Sendak illustrated paperback - but if you want an ebook here it is.