King of Excellent (according to Scaryduck)

Thursday, June 18

On reading (books, not the shithole in Berkshire)

I've been reading a lot recently. Moving my lounge around months ago, and I haven't got an aerial running to the TV in the bedroom so I find that when I go to bed I read for a lot more. I used to watch TV until I was dozing, then read for 10 minutes before putting down the book and passing out. Last night though, for example, I read for nearly 2 hours.
I've recently finished reading the Hamster's book on his slight mishap at 288mph, which I borrowed from Bertie's library. Whilst it was an enjoyable read, it became difficult to understand near the end as Richard and his wife Mindy both gave their sides of the story. The paragraphs would chop and change from one person's perspective to another, meaning that one minute you were reading about his paranoia, the next the fact that he was now a she and she was worrying about the fact he'd been out on a run for too long. The subject of brain injury was immensely immersing however, and reading about the fact that he would laugh and joke with everyone, making out that all was OK, then ask the same questions again and again would make you realise just how unwell he really was. His wife had kept the newspaper showing him on the front page and the picture of the crash. He'd re-read it again and again, each time being as shocked as the first when he realised he'd been injured. He'd then ask why he was in hospital. I finished his book last week. I won't spoil the ending, but he doesn't get killed to death.
I picked up another book recently in the 'Works', a cheap bookshop that exists in most high streets. I leant my father Long Way Round a couple of years ago, after picking it up at a car boot sale. I never got it back. So, seeing the £20 book of Long Way Down for £3.99 was a bargain. I'm already 100 pages or so in to it, and it has the same system of two authors interjecting. It does, however, name each author when it changes, making it more interesting to read. It is like having both minds (Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman) incorporated into one story, and really gives you both perspectives.
I've never been one for reading novels. Apart from the fact when I'm tired I don't remember diddly, meaning that I can't remember what happened in the chapter the night before, I just have no real interest in stories from books. Most people would argue that reading a book is ten times better then seeing a film, but I'm the exception to the rule. I don't have the memory or the attention span to read a book fully and enjoy it, whereas a film can fill all the holes quickly and clearly. Admittedly I have enjoyed books more then films, but the Hitchhiker's guide, for example, I thought was better then the book. The book is also my favourite of all time, but the film however isn't. Go figure? Bertie's reading it at the moment, so I'm looking forward to conversations about the fjords and 42.
The really ironic thing is I have become better read over recent years. I hated English at school, as my GCSE results will testify to. I had a cool English teacher who made us read cool books, but this didn't help me to learn to read more. If anything, this lowered my desire to read at all, and maybe why I loathe to read novels today. I like something I can dip into, read a bit, and not worry about where I was when I next read a bit further. I have loads of books on completely useless subjects, like toys or being a child of the 70s to how to hack (volume 3), and would much rather read these then any J K Rowling or Dan Brown offering.