In the last two weeks, I've been reading on the bus, to and from work. Last week, I read "Deception Point", by Dan Brown. Excellent read. I loved it. I'm a Dan Brown fan. I've read three of his books: The daVinci Code, Angels and Demons, and now, Deception Point. Gosh, I hope he comes out with a new one soon that's just as good.
This week, I read Anita Diamant's "The Red Tent". I remember when it first in 1997, and there was a huge hubbub about it. I steered away from it because of all the fuss that was made. Now I've finally read it, and in a way, I'm sorry that I didn't read it sooner. In another way, I'm glad I waited. I'm in a better way to appreciate it than I would have been in 1997. My life was way different then than it is now.
Over the past several months, I've considered donating some books to the library at the institute where I work. I have limited space in my little apartment, and I have read nearly all of the books that I brought from home or bought from Amazon.com (there are about 60 of them now). I'm just about ready for some new books to read and really need the space, so some of the books really should go and I'm sure that the library would be happy to take them...
...but my books are like close friends of mine. Even though I may not read them for another few years, I love them. They comfort me. They speak to me. They take me places when I need to escape from the everyday crap that life in the concrete jungle presents. So I haven't been able to bring myself to donate any of them to the library yet.