My computer database for work has decided to run incredibly slow. I've decided to blog.
I've discovered some new artists in a variety of different medium. I think I'll talk about my most recent reads to begin with.
First, Paul Auster. He's an author who's been around for years, but I've just discovered him. I'm nearly finished with one of his more recent novels, Oracle Night. It's a story, about a guy (Sidney Orr), telling the story of when he was younger and wrote a story about a man who wrote a story. Did you follow that? Probably not. It's a little muddled in the book, but in a delightful sort of way. Full of characters questioning the existence of fate, strength of relationships, and human nature. But then again, I haven't finished it yet, so I could be wrong. This is an author whose novels I've ogled every time I've been to Daedalus. It took inner prodding, but I finally convinced myself to pick up a copy (not a tough sell believe me, I'm such a push over!). I've had the novel sitting on my book shelf for well over a month, and finally started to read it on Sunday. I was instantly hooked by his writing style, and on Monday I stopped by Daedalus again and picked up The Brooklyn Follies. Another of his novels. Actually the one that first caught my eye, but I just hadn't bought!
Daedalus is my new addiction. Obsession might be a bit closer to the feeling. I've had to convince myself I can only go there on a bi-weekly basis, and that I'm only allowed to buy a maximum of 2 books per visit. This is mainly because each time I walk in there I find oodles of books that I want, I buy them, and then they sit on my shelf for months as I slowly work my way through the dozens of unread books I already own. I once told myself that I wasn't allowed to purchase another book until I had read all of the books I currently own. I counted the books, estimated how long it would take to read each book, and when I would be finished with my task. I discovered that I wouldn't be able to buy a new book for eight months. I was so depressed that I went to straight to Daedalus and bought four more to cheer myself up. I'm hopeless.
Neil Gaiman is another author I have fallen hopelessly in love with. It's strange, I wouldn't peg myself to be the type that would fall into all that fantasy mumbo-jumbo. Hence the reason I didn't read a single Harry Potter book until I was trapped in uni-bomber hut for eight months. But what do you know! I'm a die hard fantasy fan. Well maybe not die hard, but it is most assuredly killing me softly.
As I was saying, I am hopelessly in love with Neil Gaiman. Thus far I've read Smoke and Mirrors, a collection of some of his short stories. All spooky, all fabulous. The kind of read that makes you look around and say "Hmm, what if...". I also read Neverwhere. An interesting story about the London Underworld. A realm of subways, sewer systems, and magic. Through a series of unforeseen events, mainly helping a homeless women who is bleeding in the street, the main character is excommunicated from his the life as he knows it, and is forced to seek refuge in the "Underworld". Its a very interesting satirical piece on the acceptance of the homeless in London. Not to mention the fact that it is just plain fun to investigate the underbelly of London from the comfort of Columbia, Maryland!
I've discovered some new artists in a variety of different medium. I think I'll talk about my most recent reads to begin with.
First, Paul Auster. He's an author who's been around for years, but I've just discovered him. I'm nearly finished with one of his more recent novels, Oracle Night. It's a story, about a guy (Sidney Orr), telling the story of when he was younger and wrote a story about a man who wrote a story. Did you follow that? Probably not. It's a little muddled in the book, but in a delightful sort of way. Full of characters questioning the existence of fate, strength of relationships, and human nature. But then again, I haven't finished it yet, so I could be wrong. This is an author whose novels I've ogled every time I've been to Daedalus. It took inner prodding, but I finally convinced myself to pick up a copy (not a tough sell believe me, I'm such a push over!). I've had the novel sitting on my book shelf for well over a month, and finally started to read it on Sunday. I was instantly hooked by his writing style, and on Monday I stopped by Daedalus again and picked up The Brooklyn Follies. Another of his novels. Actually the one that first caught my eye, but I just hadn't bought!
Daedalus is my new addiction. Obsession might be a bit closer to the feeling. I've had to convince myself I can only go there on a bi-weekly basis, and that I'm only allowed to buy a maximum of 2 books per visit. This is mainly because each time I walk in there I find oodles of books that I want, I buy them, and then they sit on my shelf for months as I slowly work my way through the dozens of unread books I already own. I once told myself that I wasn't allowed to purchase another book until I had read all of the books I currently own. I counted the books, estimated how long it would take to read each book, and when I would be finished with my task. I discovered that I wouldn't be able to buy a new book for eight months. I was so depressed that I went to straight to Daedalus and bought four more to cheer myself up. I'm hopeless.
Neil Gaiman is another author I have fallen hopelessly in love with. It's strange, I wouldn't peg myself to be the type that would fall into all that fantasy mumbo-jumbo. Hence the reason I didn't read a single Harry Potter book until I was trapped in uni-bomber hut for eight months. But what do you know! I'm a die hard fantasy fan. Well maybe not die hard, but it is most assuredly killing me softly.
As I was saying, I am hopelessly in love with Neil Gaiman. Thus far I've read Smoke and Mirrors, a collection of some of his short stories. All spooky, all fabulous. The kind of read that makes you look around and say "Hmm, what if...". I also read Neverwhere. An interesting story about the London Underworld. A realm of subways, sewer systems, and magic. Through a series of unforeseen events, mainly helping a homeless women who is bleeding in the street, the main character is excommunicated from his the life as he knows it, and is forced to seek refuge in the "Underworld". Its a very interesting satirical piece on the acceptance of the homeless in London. Not to mention the fact that it is just plain fun to investigate the underbelly of London from the comfort of Columbia, Maryland!
His children's book Coraline, is also set to make it's movie debut sometime this summer. It looks to be a rather exciting time for Gaiman fans. That is of course assuming the plot isn't butchered like that of Stardust: an awful movie, a lovely book.
I should get back to work now. I've been devoting more of my energy on this post, than on my work. Perhaps a continuation is in the future; perhaps not.
