No time to pursue this week, but once I'm home from Booktopia with fellow blogger Bibliosue expect me to run off at the keyboard about this brilliant article from The Atlantic:
http://tinyurl.com/6m3fzxe
It's from 2001, and I've probably read it before, actually, but it's particularly striking now because the issue of literary/genre fiction continues to be debated - which is a good thing. It's given me much to ponder. It will probably resonate with lots of you, as well, unless you're unlike me and have waking moments in which you are not thinking about books. Or Sebastian Barry. Or books by Sebastian Barry. (SEE: Barry, Sebastian)
It's led me to wonder if a massive book blogger pow wow (I have NA genes, so don't EVEN think of going PC on me) isn't in order, a cross-blogular examination of what IS and IS NOT considered LITERARY, as well as how one determines QUALITY in BOOKS (perhaps a few HOURS spend on random CAPitalization would not be amiss, EITHER) . But this week I'm making like the White Rabbit so there's no time to go into any depth, especially on a subject as complex as this.
My head's stuck on the topic of packing: specifically, what clothing one needs for three days in the Deep South and how many books one needs to pack for two overnight train trips; minus what one buys while there; times hours spent conscious; minus trips to the bathroom and time wasted eating, looking out the window, noticing my environment, surreptitiously kicking obnoxious children, sounding an air horn in the ears of obnoxious children every time they nod off and conversing.
Sad news all around - I don't think I'll bring my laptop along, though the urge to live blog does pull strongly. Seeing as I often come home with lighter loads than I leave - due to my unfortunate tendency to "hide things away" in hotel rooms, for purposes of "safety," then forget to find them again - I think it may be best I leave my poor pet at home. And, while I can blog from my Kindle it's unwieldy and frustrating. Something tells me by the time Suzanne and I make it back to the hotel at night we'll be half-dead, anyway, and while it could be fun to read a blog post written while I'm falling asleep I can see potential drawbacks to that as well. Like the lack of a sane reason for doing so.*
I may be able to hop past again before I'm off on our Wild Ride but if I do not please be safe while I'm gone. And, for the love of all that's holy, STAY INSIDE WITH THE AIR CONDITIONING BLASTING.
God bless us, everyone.
*I am in no way advocating the abuse of alcohol but it has crossed my mind live blogging while intermittantly drinking shots of alcohol, over a set period of time, could produce truly entertaining reading. If by "entertaining" one means "humiliating" and "potentially fired from one's place of employment." Not to mention "evicted from one's home."
**This blogging methodology is otherwise known as "Ernest Hemingway."
