The cull
So the spouse is thinking ahead to retirement in the next few years, which means moving his massive office library back here. A library he's been collecting since the late seventies.
So all the lit and history that is spread around downstairs has to come up here, which means we're both culling. His reference books will go in the living room library.
As I looked at W.M. Spackman again, it occurred to me that he might be the central figure in the old saw about novels about adulterous professors. Glancing through, I saw delightful prose (which I remember reading in laudatory reviews all while growing up) but all his older men seem to have guilt free adultery with adoring younger women. Uh huh. Such important literature. Toss. I can get delightful prose elsewhere.
Also going the "you should love this, if your taste ever grows up" recommendations, like Vikram Seth's An Unequal Music. Glanced through again. Nope. If at nearly sixty five I still hate it, my taste is never going to grow up.
Trying to decide between translations. Decided to go with the more modern translation of War and Peace, instead of Tolstoi's recommended, which seems very stiff. It might be purer, but I'm not an academic, so I'm opting for the pleasure of reread. I seem to have ended up with about five different editions of Emily Dickinson's poems. One is enough--the one with the easiest-on-the-eyes print, and easier on my hands.
So all the lit and history that is spread around downstairs has to come up here, which means we're both culling. His reference books will go in the living room library.
As I looked at W.M. Spackman again, it occurred to me that he might be the central figure in the old saw about novels about adulterous professors. Glancing through, I saw delightful prose (which I remember reading in laudatory reviews all while growing up) but all his older men seem to have guilt free adultery with adoring younger women. Uh huh. Such important literature. Toss. I can get delightful prose elsewhere.
Also going the "you should love this, if your taste ever grows up" recommendations, like Vikram Seth's An Unequal Music. Glanced through again. Nope. If at nearly sixty five I still hate it, my taste is never going to grow up.
Trying to decide between translations. Decided to go with the more modern translation of War and Peace, instead of Tolstoi's recommended, which seems very stiff. It might be purer, but I'm not an academic, so I'm opting for the pleasure of reread. I seem to have ended up with about five different editions of Emily Dickinson's poems. One is enough--the one with the easiest-on-the-eyes print, and easier on my hands.