Back to Classics
I'm reading Mark Twain's The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and Jean Webster's Daddy Long Legs. Since I missed out on my reading this school year, blame the Busy Bee Syndrome, I felt like returning to the timeless classics. I usually don't want to read what most people are reading. I want to feel like I have a world of my own, and that no one shares it with me except the dead author.
A person has to read more if her favorite stuff are only Dan Brown's or JK Rowling's. They are not the only writers in the world, y know.
When I was younger, I was so in love with Charles Dickens' works, but I could only understand the abridged versions. I've read more than half of his novels, I guess.
I feel bad that my sisters don't like the classics; they're missing out much. Gail is obsessed with Lemony Snicket's books. She's read them all, including the Unauthorized Autobiography. Kim's into chick lit. I want to stop her! My only relief is that she's quickly maturing and beginning to pick a more "serious" book than the last. Much progress, really - from Gossip Girl to Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. Go figure.
People can make out how different our personalities are, though we were brought up in the same house by the same parents. One way to see it is by the books we read. Like I'm much into non-fiction now. I like real world matters. Kim likes romantic, teeny reads. Gail has her nose on fantasy and children's lit.
And I buy their books too! Sometimes I risk the possibility of being broke for a day just to buy them books. They have to read!
Campaign to trash the Net and TV.