Well, theoretically in my reach. There's no way I could read even a tiny percentage of all the books that look interesting to me. (Cuban ballet! Werewolves in the ancient world! A guide to the Florida Keys!' A history of humanity!)
I was pleased to find a review of Matrix which I talked about a few days ago. (The reviewer had a lot of nits to pick with the novel--things that didn't bother me when I read it.)
I must admit though that I really love reading the personals. Whether it's a slim (they're almost always slim) NYC f seeking a m social worker to share affection or a successful retired exec looking for someone to share his waterfront lifestyle or a pair of unrepentant queers (one pansexual Asian punk femme and one curly-haired nonbinary flaneur) seeking a third, my imagination is challenged. Are these people really slim? Really successful?
Not to mention the international rentals. An apartment in an antique palazzo in Florence, a 17th century courtyard apartment in Paris's Marais district . . .
I'm not looking for a change in my situation, let me hasten to add. But it's fun to imagine other lives.
3 comments:
I read a lot of reviews, but they too often point negatively to things I either loved or simply shrugged off. Reading reviews before the book is published sometimes causes perplexing problems in writing my own review comments.
Ah, the New York Review of Books! I have happy memories of the time I had a subscription to that Pusher of Books Supreme. Somewhere, I may still have the box in which I kept the index cards on which I'd scribble the author and title of each book reviewed in the NYRB that looked interesting. Every time I went to the public library, I'd grab a stack of those cards and check them against the catalogue, borrow the books they had, and sadly cross out the name/title when the book was not part of the library's holdings. Good old days. Now, with so many book pushers among my friends (yes, I'm looking at you, Vicki!), I know better than to resubscribe to the NYRB. So many books, so little time ...
I'm glad you used the word flâneur -- it has long been one of my favourite words, for both its meaning and its sound. In the Hague, the Netherlands, is a statue called "The Flaneur", in honour of journalist Edouard Elias who wrote columns under that nom de plume. The few times I made it back to the Netherlands, I always made it a point to say "Hello" to it.
https://bkdh.nl/en/kunstwerken/flaneur/
The Personal ads are a hoot usually. I wonder if anyone ever makes a good relationship that way (as opposed to the actual online dating websites). I often wonder how I'd describe myself...
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