On Being Back ...
Sometimes I bite off more than I can chew. I do too much and, in so doing, make it less likely that I do much of anything. This time last year, I started writing reviews about every single book I read. It obviously didn’t last very long.
But I want to write about what I’m reading for two reasons. The first is that it feels weird not to have written here for almost eight months. The second is that I’ve read a lot of books this year and have things to say about some of them.
To avoid collapsing in on myself again like a dying star – of course a dying star as seen from a street in Queens; faded by street lamps, one of billions, so tiny that it barely registers as distinguishable from the rest, so distant from anything useful to us that its dramatic collapse appears only as a quick flicker and death and registers far too late to be of any real help – I’ll lay out a couple guidelines I intend to follow:
I’m not going to try to write essays about all the books I read. I’m going to write blurbs about shit I find interesting in the moment. There might be several over the course of one book and zero over the course of the next three.
If I do write longer reflections it won’t be for everything, it’ll probably only be for the really titanic shit, the life-changing stuff, the real doozies. But we’ll see.
In the meantime –– I hope to be here more often and writing. Onward.