One of the good things about Christmas is that if you are lucky like me, you have sons and they give you books. The other good thing is that there’s a week before New Year’s when nothing much happens, giving you plenty of time to read.
As you may be able to see above, this year’s haul was an interesting mix. I haven’t read these yet, but from the titles and book jackets, I’m looking at American history of 100 years ago in Oklahoma, a couple of excursions into the history of scientific discovery (physics in one case and the Mayan civilization in the other), and finally the icing on the cake of books — another escapist yarn about the invincible knight-errant of our time, Jack Reacher.
It’s hard to beat a collection of gifts like these. And it’s my great good fortune that I can settle down — maybe even near the fire — and dig into these treasures.
The drawback of books, if you can call it that, is that once you’ve read them you have to find a place to put them. This can be a challenge when the shelves are already groaning with the offerings of many Christmases past.
But that’s a trifle. It’s nothing compared to the pleasure of cracking open a book for the first time and seeing how — and more important, whether — the author has found a way to hook you in. (hh)