So, I’ve been wondering lately: why is it that so many of the things people present to me as “rules” I hear and go : “You what?”
Case in point: Sunday, Andrew claims that it’s a rule that paperback books are what people should bring to read in the park, because they’re more relaxing, more reminiscent of holidays. That this is what everyone does. Apparently, the fact that I think that this is horseshit is just me being difficult and willfully different again, and not in fact based on the fact that my Dad, my uncles, and indeed, everyone I’ve ever been on holiday with doesn’t seem to have paid any attention to whether or not something’s a paperback, but rather, to whether or not they want to read it. Christ, I know people that take big technical manuals with them on holiday, because they want to read them. A book’s a fucking book. Same words inside both the hardback and paperback editions. The only criteria I have for a “holiday” book is that it be thick and heavy enough to bend space around it. And even then, I take two, because I know I’ll finish them within days. This trip (assuming it arrives in time), I’m planning on taking Ackroyd’s “London: A Biography”, because I figure that’ll last me a while, and Thompson’s “The Great Shark Hunt”, because I like to have a little light re-reading available, and if I’m going to be poking about the states, I figure I ought to be reading one of the finest writers they’ve ever produced. I might even take “Infinite Jest” with me, and try and use the time to get it dealt with. Depends on whether or not London arrives, I guess.
I’ll probably slap a book of some sort on the Visor as well, as a back-up.