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I am finally, finally able to start unpacking my books. I haven't had my books properly near me since about April (either we were in seperate houses, or they were in boxes, waiting for shelves), and I hadn't realised just how much I missed having them around.
I haven't actually been reading much at all, because of many factors, but mostly the internet with its endless flist refreshing. I don't want to be that person anymore. Or rather, I want to be more of the kid I used to be: who when the year six teacher gave us all a sheet to note down the books we'd read during silent reading, had to go over onto the back of the page. To that end, I am doing the 52 books in 52 weeks challenge, having started Sunday 11 November, because that's as good a time as any, and was when I started unpacking my books.
The challenge is exactly what it sounds like: read a book a week, for a year. Although 52 books in 52 weeks sounds a tad more surmountable... While there are no rules with it, I feel a little like re-reading a book is a less-than-honourable way to start the challenge, but I've done it anyway.
I found this book in the cheap bins in the Angus and Robertson at the train station, a total impulse buy. It's a gorgeous, subtly subversive Young Adult novel, although you could possibly debate how subversive a book can be when it's been shortlisted for the Children's Book Council of Australia...
I love this book to bits. Kate is 17, and lives in Lismore, NSW, with her 20 year old sister who has just given birth to a girl. They live in a guest house that is run by an old woman called Lil, who has raised the two of them after their father went away when Kate was about three. Kate and Sophie read everything they can get their hands on. Kate writes in notebooks, and on wild typewritten pages.
The things Kate worries about? Studying for her exams; what life's going to be like moving to Sydney for university (if she passes); how she's going to tell Lil and Sophie she's moving away, and her friendship/attraction/relationship with the boy who volunteers in the charity secondhand bookshop. At the end of the book, Kate and Sophie's parents have not magically appeared, they have still been raised by Lil, Sophie is still a proud single mum, and Kate wears a suit to her end of year ball, and has worked to reorder the bookshop into "Literature" (rather a small section) and "Men's Literature" (freaking huge) as opposed to "Women's literature/Literature".
Snippets:
Sophie tells me that Oscar Wilde said to never trust a woman who reveals her age -- she'll reveal anything. Since I have already revealed my age to you, perhaps I will end by revealing anything (and everything). I don't know yet. Can I trust you? Notebooks have been known to spill secrets.
...
"Can I see you again?" I tried not to appear too eager.
"Of course," he said. "Come to the shop, or my place." He touched me on the arm. "But where do you live?"
"Somewhere over there," I told him, vaguely, waving one arm in a generalised direction.
"Oh, I see. Yonder," he said, nodding and smiling at me.
"Yes. Yonder."
So we spoke the same language. I wondered if he also looked up dictionaries in his spare time. But I didn't want to put him off entirely. As we parted, I turned at the last moment to call out, "I live in a place called Samarkand."
I haven't actually been reading much at all, because of many factors, but mostly the internet with its endless flist refreshing. I don't want to be that person anymore. Or rather, I want to be more of the kid I used to be: who when the year six teacher gave us all a sheet to note down the books we'd read during silent reading, had to go over onto the back of the page. To that end, I am doing the 52 books in 52 weeks challenge, having started Sunday 11 November, because that's as good a time as any, and was when I started unpacking my books.
The challenge is exactly what it sounds like: read a book a week, for a year. Although 52 books in 52 weeks sounds a tad more surmountable... While there are no rules with it, I feel a little like re-reading a book is a less-than-honourable way to start the challenge, but I've done it anyway.
I found this book in the cheap bins in the Angus and Robertson at the train station, a total impulse buy. It's a gorgeous, subtly subversive Young Adult novel, although you could possibly debate how subversive a book can be when it's been shortlisted for the Children's Book Council of Australia...
I love this book to bits. Kate is 17, and lives in Lismore, NSW, with her 20 year old sister who has just given birth to a girl. They live in a guest house that is run by an old woman called Lil, who has raised the two of them after their father went away when Kate was about three. Kate and Sophie read everything they can get their hands on. Kate writes in notebooks, and on wild typewritten pages.
The things Kate worries about? Studying for her exams; what life's going to be like moving to Sydney for university (if she passes); how she's going to tell Lil and Sophie she's moving away, and her friendship/attraction/relationship with the boy who volunteers in the charity secondhand bookshop. At the end of the book, Kate and Sophie's parents have not magically appeared, they have still been raised by Lil, Sophie is still a proud single mum, and Kate wears a suit to her end of year ball, and has worked to reorder the bookshop into "Literature" (rather a small section) and "Men's Literature" (freaking huge) as opposed to "Women's literature/Literature".
Snippets:
Sophie tells me that Oscar Wilde said to never trust a woman who reveals her age -- she'll reveal anything. Since I have already revealed my age to you, perhaps I will end by revealing anything (and everything). I don't know yet. Can I trust you? Notebooks have been known to spill secrets.
...
"Can I see you again?" I tried not to appear too eager.
"Of course," he said. "Come to the shop, or my place." He touched me on the arm. "But where do you live?"
"Somewhere over there," I told him, vaguely, waving one arm in a generalised direction.
"Oh, I see. Yonder," he said, nodding and smiling at me.
"Yes. Yonder."
So we spoke the same language. I wondered if he also looked up dictionaries in his spare time. But I didn't want to put him off entirely. As we parted, I turned at the last moment to call out, "I live in a place called Samarkand."
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