Reading was fantastic.

.
.
I had thought to begin one of the books purchased in the book bomb, the last one.  While I purchased those ebooks, there was another from one of the authors which... called to me.  I have never heard of any of the authors, save through the site to which I posted a link.  I have read a small, perhaps medium, library worth of sci-fi.  For years reading between two and five books a week.  But the sci-fi/fantasy world was, and remains, a vast ocean.  There seems to be no limit to choices, if there is a limit to quality writers and time.  Even of just, what I would call quality writers, there are far too many too know.  Truly.  Well, and writers tend to wax and wane, sometimes cyclically, sometimes like a light switch.  *click*

I saw a book, however, as I was buying those other books, that... just caught my eye.  I have seen it before.  Not in flesh, in dreams.  I have seen the tower on the front, or one like it, also in dreams.  Actually, when I saw the cover, I knew it was for me before realizing it did happen to be written by one of the authors of the books in the book bomb campaign.  How fortuitous.  Still, I had to see if the books I purchased were in a series, and where to start, and all that jazz.  Such things, when I am ill, take time.  That done... I then had to propose to read the books, and wait until there was time, or a time, when no other calling, disturbance, or illness itself, precluded reading.  I am beginning to think I understand how aristocracy works.  Oh, trust me, it wasn't God that granted them anything.  It was merely that as some became wealthy and came to power, they became stated, stodgy, conservative in all things, and... things took on a life of their own.  Poor, perhaps, but I am an aristocrat in some ways even so.

In any case, after having all of the reasons not to read taken care of, and all of the information I required in order to read read and to my satisfaction, I accidented into a time for reading.  Right.

The book I chose was Awake in the Night Land, by John C. Wright.  I wasn't expecting too much, nor too little.  This author seems to tickle some of my favored rascals of the interwebs.  I can't say if I have heard this book, or any other, specifically mentioned.  But the author has been noted often enough.  Then again, I try not to remember what I don't think will pertain to me, or personal tidbits that I think might... be troublesome in some way should it fall into the wrong hands.  I'm... odd, but true, that way.  In any case, I was curious.  There is always hope.  But as often as I have read crap books by authors hoisted with laurels who should have been toasted and hoisted upon petards, which if studied back to origins, might be fairly saying I could also fart in their general direction.  Love how words work, innit?

As it turns out, it is... a wonderful start on the stack I have just purchased.  I couldn't have asked for better writing or the start of a finer story.  I dropped into it, like in the old days, when I was young and sci-fi was catnip.  I would still be reading but my limits, whether for work, play, or even reading, are real.  I have little stamina for these things, currently.  Still, I'll hit it as I can.  Loverly.  Truly a wonderful thing.  I just hope they are all this good.  Or at least good enough to draw me back in.  Nerd crack, I'm telling you.  If they are all along these lines, I might get back to my old reading schedule.  They might even get me up to finishing, or restarting, Summa Theologica.  I know I can do it, I just have to be in some kind of reading shape.  The bible calls me, sometimes, and I just read it.  Other things take a bit more... something.  Even should I enjoy greatly.

Hmm... not sure what to do now.  It's almost bedtime.  I'll figure something out, music perhaps.  Good night.