How long do I let a book moulder on the bedside table I can give up on it?
At what point does a well-intentioned gift become a piece of furniture, requiring dusting?
How long do I have to wait to give back a borrowed book, unread?
If I give back a borrowed book, unread, can I lie and say I read it, based on the reviews and maybe a wikipedia entry?
These are the questions eating at me as I struggle to get through several volumes that are piling up. It's getting silly, really.
I want to be inspired by Thomas Friedman's Hot, Flat and Crowded, I really would. It's certainly fascinating work, effectively connecting climate change and the US financial meltdown and a bunch of other scary stuff. If the solutions he proposes are as big as the problems I may start to despair, but I'm not there yet. I read at night lately, and at one page before I fall asleep, it's taking me a million years to get through the damn thing
It's taken so long to wade through Hot, Flat and Crowded, I have basically ignored the biography of Peter Gzowski loaned to me and sitting accusingly on the nightstand. I quite admired Morningside, but I already know the big surprises in the biography because of all the hand-wringing on the CBC when it came out. It appears a massively talented guy was an egotist, womanizer and deadbeat dad. Really. What a surprise. Frankly, I'm not sure I want to spend any time finding out more about a guy who appears, from the several interviews with the author I've heard, to have been such a jerk when the microphone was off.
Maybe I'll go back to the Twilight Series. Again. Light and frothy might be what I'm looking for. It is spring, after all.