In Trishanku heaven

I’m between books.  Yes, that’s an actual state of being in my life. Between books. Finished one and still slightly hungover by it. Yet to start the next one, for there is always always always a next one. Sometimes that’s my sole reason to live. Well, these days it’s my son, but hey, you get the picture.

I hate being between books. I’m sad that the one I was reading got over, more so if I enjoyed the book. And selecting the next one seems like such a commitment. Is it just me? Probably, yes. Remind me to tell my shrink this. So anyway, I’m still searching around for a good book to pick up next and I’m having very little luck. My choices are limited since I’m now Kindle-less. Yeah, no, no overnight miracles to fix it and I didn’t hear any elves dropping by at night either. My Kindle is still broken and I got so depressed every time I saw it that I’ve banished it (it actually hurts to say this!) to the interiors of a cupboard that I hardly open. And Facebook is being extra insensitive by showing me Kindle-related ads every time I log in. Woe is me, yes.

Ok, since there’s no Kindle, I’m finally getting back to the paper-based books that I have. Some were bought many years back when I was reading a different genre than I do now and had more time on my hands. Like Nabokov, Kafka, Orhan Pamuk (‘Lolita’, ‘Night train to Lisbon’, ‘Amerika’, ‘Snow’, ‘The witch of Portobello’), etc to name a few. I’d like to think of them as serious reads – the ones you read for enjoying the prose more, than the plot as such. Such books need to be read at leisure, without interruptions, over many days, beside the window with a cup of coffee in your hand. This is a rare luxury for a mother of a toddler. So these days, I prefer light reads. Books that don’t tax the mind so much, like one of Superstar’s entertainer movies! You read 10 pages, get up to wash a wee little bum, sing some nursery rhymes, play with building blocks and then come back to the book, pick up where you left off effortlessly. Unfortunately for me, I don’t have a lot of that genre with me right now. They were mostly e-books and the ones I do have in paperback have been read and re-read a million times already.

In short (in some 400 odd words that is), I’m book-less today. I hate it. Feels like I’m in Trishanku heaven, neither up nor down, neither here nor there, desperately hoping to be tied down to the fluttering pages of a new book, with new things to be discovered and enjoyed.

Help me with a book, won’t you? Rescue me from this limbo.


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