Tao Te Ching was waiting for me in the mailbox when I got home tonight. We'll call that Number One on the summer reading stack. It's pocket-sized; it might get lost otherwise.
I bought Melanie Rae Thon's The Voice of the River at her reading on campus this past week. That's Number Two.
Also arriving today: The Eyes of a Flounder, Laura Hamblin's collection of poetry. I need to take it to class on Tuesday for signing. (Or is that too kiss-up? I'm already TAing for her in the Fall.)
M— talked me into letting her take a gander at Love Medicine, but we've also discussed reading The Great Gatsby together in the coming month.
I'm also planning to pick up a copy of Marilynne Robinson's Housekeeping, and possibly, just maybe I'll crack open that copy of Antigone that's hiding in one of many boxes of books in the garage. I might unpack all those boxes while I'm at it; might possibly move in like I live here instead of playing gypsy.
And then, if I feel like keeping this philosophical boil going, Sierra tells me Sarte is a must.
I don't have a bedside table here, so the babel tower of books that has long been permanent fixture in my bedroom decor isn't a functional concept.
Maybe if it were I would feel more settled.
I can't find the trick.