The ups and downs of life, I've discovered, are keenly connected to our appetite for books. I'm plagued by the worst bout of fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue since I was in my early 40s. My first onset attacks were the worst, at 25 and 31 years of age. So because I've been so free of the mess for so many years, I was tremendously surprised when my body started unraveling in a big way in mid-September.
But, what's so interesting is I've become much more interested in books, book blogs, book review magazines, book reviews in newspapers and on radio--all in the drive to escape and to populate my brain with a world that pain and sadness can't touch. And it helps. You all help.
I had a spectacular week in books this week. A book I can't wait to sink my jaw into arrived two days early on my doorstep, with a dog biscuit on top. Carson, our UPS driver, never forgets our Sasha. Two books I was waiting for zoomed in for me at the library. And I found one that I can't wait to share with you. The first part of the title is Novel Cures. It's an extremely funny take on bibliotherapy. Ken and I laughed uproariously last night when I shared bits with him. Fun, escape, distraction, and, more important, an entrance to our deepest intellectual selves, which, from my experience, don't feel pain.
This post was inspired by LitLove's honest rendering of her life at the moment. I have been holding back, but my dedication to reading and books WILL BE STRONGER for sharing what's been driving me deeper into books.
Much More Tomorrow with updates on all those great books coming in this week.
Margaret Millar’s The Listening Walls (1959; 2016)
11 hours ago