Just picked up my reserved book from the library yesterday. It's "Records of the grand historian" by Sima Qian. I'm looking at the thickness of the book in anticipation.
You know, it's like when you get this huge juicy steak - you examine the appearance - the browness, the gravy and appreciate the overall setting of that meat amongst the veggies and marsh potatos; you sniff in the aroma and whoo a little, then you prod it with your knife to test it's tenderness. You sit back and gaze in admiration at that dish for some time before you really dig in.
'Cos at the back of your mind, you're anticipating but something is holding you back, like a leash. Because you know that when you start, you'll have to finish, every. single. bite. - perhaps to the exclusion of everything else.
At least, that's how I read novels. As much as possible, in one seating. And if possible, I'll forgo sleep; unless my tiredness eats into my enjoyment. But I'm just anticipating the adrenalin right now and savouring the moment.
And the beauty of this book is that it's history, written in the form of a novel. So not only is it enjoyable to read, it has the additional 'kick' of it being true.
One of my favourite things to do, is to cosy up in the night, with a really good book and a cup of coffee. The best time, would often be during the monsoon seasons, with the winds whirling their way into the living room and the sound of threshing leaves on the trees outside; and me, snug, safe and warm at home with a thriller of a book.
Thank God for such moments! :D
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