I fed my guilty pleasure this weekend. I squeezed in hours of reading, not for business or self help, but purely for the pleasure of it. It's been a long while since I've given myself such a gift - probably since my last vacation - or plane ride.
A Thousand Splendid Suns is finished. It rests on the coffee table while I allow the story to sink in; while I silently bid farewell to the heroic characters that were alive to me, and who I grew so very attached to ...
At the risk of turning into a book review, I sing this book's praises (maybe I should just murmur its praises -- I can't even carry a tune). It was written by Khaled Hosseini, the author of The Kite Runner; both books were set in Afganistan. A Thousand Spendid Suns is a delicious epic about love, friendship, oppression, war, family and life in Afghanistan, told through the lives of two women. I shed a tear or two while devouring this book - and devour it I did. When I find a novel I thoroughly enjoy, I immerse myself in it, preferring to plough through it - rereading favourite sections - in one or two sittings. After gluttonously consuming chapter after chapter, losing myself in the sheer pleasure of it all - panic starts to creep in .... I don't want the story to end. It's a contradiction to be sure.
Nothing relaxes me more than reading; my body is still and quiet while my mind is involved in another reality. So maybe that is the reason that I am ending this weekend on such a contented, laid back note.
So many many books - so little time. I just decided that I am going to indulge myself a lot more often. And that is a promise.