Six Hundred And Two

Six hundred and two posts, and still counting. The magic thousand seems unattainable, requiring as it does more than two years of consistent writing on any topics that come to hand. Just today, I was trying to conjure up a piece on the difficulty in understanding how things can be difficult for other people, and then it crumbled into a pile of condescending words of little to no point. Sometimes it does all just crumble, composition-wise. Someone else would probably have found it easy. Ha.

Instead, it might be a good idea to write a little about the intricacies of putting together a reading list, as I have done for the purposes of teaching English. What should be in a reading list, especially for younger readers? After some thought, it was stuffed with more rollicking adventures than you would think existed in the world, inspired both by my own reading and that of friends. The hardest part was actually withstanding the urge to pump in female led books I hadn't read, just for the political correctness of it all. I'll have to read more and then throw them in after reflection. Oh, it wasn't difficult at all to leave out Harry Potter and Tolkien, though. In fact, much delighted chuckling was heard from the bottom of Clomp's pile in those excisions!

A reading list is both a reassuring and a limiting thing, if used incorrectly. Some people, when presented with such a list, would scrupulously read only the novels listed therein and then stop, having learnt nothing from the process. That list ticking has to be combated by making an introductory reading list that is packed with books that make you want to read more, and not some of the worthy things that will put you to sleep with boredom. At school, we had a terrible set of reading texts, that utterly killed any enjoyment. It's amazing that I didn't give it all up, especially when 'MacBeth' was foisted upon us all. It was nicer in primary school, where in the senior class you got to browse the bookshelves and read what you liked. That doesn't happen any more, alas. Those books aren't there anymore, probably.

Perhaps this is really a post about books. I used to spend hours in the library in town, browsing through the unusual and eccentric collection, but then it fell away. The selection changed, as it has throughout the county system. The number of books on the shelves shrank, then the book cases reduced in size, and finally it became an exercise in looking through the books you would find in any library, all the titles that are already most popular and sanctioned by the powers that be. It was nice to be able to pick up utterly absurd combinations and unusual titles, and read whatever you liked. Was it ever really like that, or is it just my imagination? Is that a furry carrot sitting on the beanstalk?

Books are the greatest form of entertainment, the minimal form which exists as much as is possible in your own imagination. If only there were more time to read...

O.