I've been in a bit of a reading/blogging slump over the last few days due to being sick with a cold, the effects of which were exceedingly bleak (okay, sorry, that last part won't be amusing to anyone who hasn't seen the movie Emma.) But, I have finally recovered, due to a ridiculous amount of vitamins and the restorative powers of Golden Girls, which I spent most of the day watching. I forced myself to stop in between each episode so I could get my book for the day read. It's really a wonder that I ever manage to get the book for the day read at all. I'm still amazed sometimes that a person with as little motivation as I have actually reads a book a day. I think people get a false impression of my life when I tell them about my blog. In fact, someone said a few months ago, in reference to my blog, that they wished they had as much drive as I have and I laughed so hard I almost broke a rib. Then I told my parents about that statement and they burst out laughing. And when I told my sister, we both laughed until we cried. I'm quite possible the least motivated person ever - which is why working from home while trying to write a blog is the worst possible course of action I could take. And yet, here I am attempting it anyway. Back at the beginning of the year I actually entertained the idea that writing this blog would help me to become more disciplined - but I'm slowly starting to accept that procrastination and the sense of panic that comes when midnight is almost here are all part of my creative process. So is whining. I spend at least 20 minutes before writing each blog entry whining about how I have nothing to say about this book, and I'm not creative at all, and my blog is a failure. Consider yourselves lucky that you don't have to witness the whining part, because it's like an episode of Thirtysomething.
Today's book, "Under the Lilacs relates the adventures of Ben Brown, his performing poodle Sancho, and the two young girls who feed and care for them after the boy and dog run away from the circus."
I'm really glad I didn't pick today's book based on the description, because I think the description makes it sound kind of boring. I picked today's book based solely on the author - I really didn't have any other choice but to go on the author since today's book was an old hardcover that didn't have a description on the back. So I figured, how can I go wrong with the author of Little Women. I've been meaning to re-read Little Women for quite some time now, but I'm nervous about it since the book is almost 600 pages. I just don't know if I can pull that off, but I'm really tempted to try.
I also picked today's book because I figured like reading something wholesome to wash away the feeling that yesterday's book left me with. It's a system I came up with when I was a child and sneaking behind my Mother's back to read the trashy novels that I wasn't allowed to read. According to the world that I have invented in my own head, if I read one really wholesome book after reading a trashier book then the wholesomeness cancels out the trashiness, two wholesome books and it not only cancels out the trashy book but some of the trashy TV I've watched as well. It's really a delightful world in my head - it's a world where I'm never wrong and no one ever wears stonewashed jeans or perms their hair.
And now maybe I should actually talk about the book (what a crazy idea.) The book sort of went in waves, first it was really good (despite the fact that the scene where the children were playing with their dolls reminded me of my own sad history with dolls in which they seemed to always accidentally lose their heads), and then a character I didn't care for (Ben) showed up and I struggled to stay interested for a few pages (so naturally I took a Golden Girls break), and then the book went back to being interesting again. So, if you enjoy reading books that were meant for twelve-year-old girls, then you'll like this book. If you have the reading habits of someone who is actually a grown-up then you'll probably hate this book. I personally have never had a problem with embracing my inner twelve-year-old, or giving in to her every demand to watch Brady Bunch and eat ice cream for breakfast (dairy-free, of course.)
