I have a bit of a problem. I was reading Lolita, and, concurrently, Vera, a biography of Vera Nabokov and her relationship with her husband.

Meanwhile, I had ordered Six Months Off, and that came in the mail last week, so even though I’m already two months into my sabbatical, I started reading it in case there was some information that might prove useful (but that’s fluffy, and surely that doesn’t count.)

Then Fast Food Nation, which Alex had ordered for me because I mentioned once, a long, long time ago that I wanted to read it, also came in the mail. I started reading it and realized it was a great way to help me stop eating junk food (while being educated about the merits and problems of the fast food industry.)

And a couple of weeks ago, I also started Dreams of Trespass, an overly exoticized memoir by the Moroccan sociologist Fatima Mernissi. Now, just yesterday I went up to my stack of just-purchased-not-yet-read books and pulled out House of Sand and Fog when Alex said “You can’t be serious.”

I don’t know why I’m doing that. I really ought to sit down with one book, read it through, and then move to another. I must be compensating, since I finally have time to read however much I want.


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