Sometimes you know that you are in the mood for a certain type of book and you immediately start reading it.
Sometimes you know that you are in the mood for a certain type of book and yet can't seem to get around to reading it.
Sometimes you don't know that you are in the mood for a certain type of book until your purchases illuminate it for you.
I actually own both versions of this book and haven't read either one. They have both been following me around on my vacations from nightstand to nightstand for the last month. I've owned them for years. I've been wanting dreadfully to read them. Why haven't I?
I've just received both of these from Book Depository as an early Christmas gift to myself. I've always been fascinated by the workings of a large estate, (I loved Gosford Park for that very reason, and touring the kitchen of Ashford Castle to make scones during my Ireland trip was mostly fantastic because I adore the behind-the-scenes view...in fact I'm fascinated with doors in general and am now wondering if the two are related?) and my interest has ramped up again after watching the first season of Downton Abbey...need.to.read...
All right, so maybe these seem to have nothing in common. But they both hold importance to my family's history: my grandfather's family emigrated from Ireland, and I grew up in California Gold Rush country. Learning more about these topics somehow makes me feel I'll know more about myself. I've been carrying the first around for nearly a year now, wanting to read it. The second recently arrived from PaperbackSwap. I want to read them both, yet somehow they aren't that the top of the pile...?
I've [obviously] been having a huge urge to read some good nonfiction (it goes beyond even these titles shown) but somehow they keep getting pushed aside. I think that nonfiction takes a concentration that fiction often doesn't, and so I keep waiting for the perfect time. I'm coming to think, however, that starting a nonfiction book is like starting a family: you need to just do it, because if you wait for the perfect time it will never happen.
Have you experienced this? Perhaps in different genres or delineations? In the past few years I've read much more nonfiction (and much less adult fiction) than this year, which leads me to speculate that blogging might have something to do with it. I somehow seem to adopt a running-out-of-time mentality that makes me shy away from nonfiction. I think I'll give December a nonfiction focus: I've done well with my goals for this year, why not end the year with something I've been longing for anyhow?