With the amount of TV I’m watching since I moved to Oz drastically reduced, not nearly as many social events, and not to mention most travel I’m doing taking a very, very long time, I’ve gotten back into reading as a hobby. I’m finally starting to read all the books on my shelf that I always intended to read, but just sat gathering dust for sometimes over a decade.
As a byproduct of this, I’ve decided to start reading things of a bit more substance. In addition to my current collection, I’ve also been picking up more, well, adult books instead of just the usual William Gibson and Terry Pratchett. Just today I wandered for the first time into a book shop in my neighborhood that’s been in the process of closing down since I got here, the upshot of which is books are actually affordable there, most running a mere $5 as opposed to the usual requirement of monthly financing for a hardcover. I came away with novellas by Melville and Chekhov, and an atlas on the migration of humans from homo erectus to American immigration (or euro lateralus)
If I’m not going to act as an adult, I may as well read like one.