Now Is the Time…

… for all good bloggers reflect on the past 12 months of whatever it is they write about, and although I’m generally resistant to anything that everybody else is doing, I’m so pleased to have a little time on my hands right now that I find myself wanting to put in my two cents as well. As it turns out, for a year in which I was completely slammed flat by the twin truncheons of work and school I had a surprisingly good reading life. Or maybe not so surprising. I’m not a TV watcher, don’t knit or play handball or do recreational drugs, so reading was my one escape. Whenever I had any kind of time, I dove—gratefully and a bit frantically—straight into whatever book or periodical I had on hand. And though I always think counting up books-read-per-year is a bit tawdry, I went ahead and did just that, and was shocked to see that as of this writing I clocked in at well over 40.

That said, I wouldn’t say this was a year of deeply reflective reading. I read a lot of good stuff, most of it contemporary—between my faithful procurers publicists and my late-night-impulse library hold queue, I never really had to think about what was next. I just plucked each book off the top of the pile and immersed myself, then went on to the next. Not much in the way of backlist, unless I was reading up on an author for Bloom; nothing insanely challenging. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t have an opinion or two. Or more. Over the next few days, then, I’ll be serving up a few of these, in medium-to-short form, to clear the decks for all that good 2014 reading to come.

To start with…

(Image is На санках [Sledding], 1944, from childrenbooksillustrations’ photostream.)