One of the things I notice when I visit people is the books on their shelves. I look at what they like, try to spot something I haven’t read but might want to. People with lots of shelves–or better yet, piles of books scattered around the house or apartment–invariably have worthwhile recommendations, so I’ll jot notes on paper scraps and add those to my list. This has been a good path to some fine treasure.
Yesterday, folded over by flu, I grabbed my own pile of books and burrowed into an easy chair. The headache and chills receded, pushed aside by clear thinking, delightful prose and a few wacky ideas. St. Isaac of Syria, Tim Keel’s Intuitive Leadership, Seth Godin’s Tribes, Robert Coram’s biography of Boyd, Robert Benson’s A Good Life–fine reads all, for different reasons. And most of them recommended by friends who are avid readers.
Books inspire, cajole, remind, open, suggest, motivate, delight…. And yet, reading is still an undiscovered country for too many. Neil Gaiman, who knows a thing or two about books, mentioned in an older blog that according to an AP-Ipsos poll, one adult in four does not read a book all year. Don’t be that person in 2011: read a book! Read two!
Writing wise, it’s been an interesting season: there’s been time in these last weeks to stay with the glory project, to the point that I’m now in the final chapter. That’s had me noodling over what it means to want glory, and thinking about the Spirit’s influence on a life. Around the edges of available time, I’ve been tinkering with Prime Target, trying to figure out whether it should go out as an e-book. And I’m waiting for Playa Perdida to get discovered by a new audience. Waiting. Waiting. Of course, there’s always this strategy….