When this first came out nothing I had read about it made me want to actually read it. But I started to hear some good stuff about Michael Moore and this book and I then planned to read it at some stage. I finished the book I had been reading on the tube on the way to the airport on Friday night and then found out that the second book was not what I had meant to pick up and I had already read it. D’oh. So at the airport I wanted a book and once your through security at Heathrow, there isn’t that much of a selection. Stupid White Men was one of the books they did have so I figured I would give it a shot. As the night went on (and on due to fog delays) I sat at the bar having a few pints and reading.
Aside from the fact that it was funny and it did make me laugh out loud in places, it was really interesting. I am very glad I read it and I will make some time to check out his movie Bowling for Columbine. I also did something which is pretty much unprecedented for me. I like having my books in good condition. I bent not one, but two pages back to mark something. Had I had a pen handy, I would have highlighted the text. I lent the book to my Dad. I think it might fit with his sense of humour but when I get it back, you will be getting those lines with some comments.
Next up, bought from a vending machine at the gate as I was about finished the above 21 Dog Years: Doing Time @ Amazon.com. Hmm this was very mixed, in places it was funny, in other places it was kinda scary and overall it didn’t really flow. The story is simple and the book itself describes it as ‘Boy meets dot-com, boy falls for dot-com, boy flees dot-com in horror’. Unless that catches you, don’t bother. Once thing it has left me, is wanting to read books about my own company. I shall pick some of them up early in the new year.
I’m kinda finished with the big crime kick I think. Right now I’m not sure exactly what I want. I have an inkling to read some hard sci-fi, go back to the Masterworks series and read a few of them. I’m also in the mood for some semi/autobiographical roadtrip stuff. In the vein of Hunter S. Thompson I guess. To that end I’m reading On the Road by Jack Kerouac.
There is so much out there I have not read. I’m hitting Amazon at the mo to create a listing of stuff that I want to read. Their 20th Century Classics seems to be a good starting point. I’ve never read anything by Steinback, Salinger, Hemingway, Joyce, or Kafka and the list goes on. The funny thing is a few years ago this the stuff I would have hated. I actually considered reading Wuthering Heights recently and I remember hating being forced to do it in school.
Being back in Dublin over the weekend really forced home how some things have changed, no scrap that. It isn’t how some things have changed, it is how I have changed.
It is late and while I know I’m not in work till late tomorrow I shall go sleep…perchance to dream
And now this is the point where I scare myself by admitting this…its good to be home. Dear sweet jesus what the fuck?