Boooookish

Bookish.
Is it a worm?
Is it a nerd?
Is it wrong?
Does it mean you are socially awkward?
The word aw   k   wa   rd.
Is just that.

Bookish.
Book him.
Throw the book at him. No, throw it at me!

The one that sits on top of the New York Times Book review.
The one they advertise in Harper's.
The ones that are recommended on Nicholas Hoare's web site.
The fiction. Non-Fiction.
The hard covers and the soft ones.
Throw the book at me and I will live vicariously through the pages & the character's.
But, if you throw that book at me...what will I do?

I am fully booked.
I am truly- fully booked. I have so many books to read.
I might not have time to read them all.
And, then again, there might be a day and a night where I have too much time.
I long to read on a beach and fall asleep a book resting on my face.
The wind wakes me up. The embarassing tourists having all left.
Only I will remain. The ocean staring at me from a distance.

I have had that experience once.
It was in Falmouth, twenty one years ago.
I was alone for the week. Pregnant. And, I had time.
I had brought with me Perfume de Patrick Suskind & The Journal de Guerre de Simone de Beauvoir.

Reading in bed sounds wonderful. But, reading on a deserted beach is almost nicer.

Goodnight, it is 11 h 51 and I must go to bed with the Muriel Spark I am reading, after taking a small break from Regeneration, book one, Pat Barker. Lovely.