The Lair

With my ongoing Discworld reread; I’ve just started on Carpe Jugulum, which is what .. book 23 ? My chronologically ordered re-read didn’t go quite as planned. Somewhere around the early twenties, I jumped the queue; moved to a copy of book 30, the most recently released and started working my way back. Glad I did, because I think TP has picked up a full head of steam with recent books. Or maybe this is my Vetinari/Vimes fixation. Anyway…

Also been spending my time on a re-read of George RR Martin’s series for a while now… in time for the release of a new novel in the series.

See, my reading time (excluding the volumes I need to bulldoze through for actual work) is quite clearly divided. There is mealtime reading, where I’d repose with a book propped up in front of the plate; there is bedtime reading which seems self explanatory, really. There is casual reading; which is reserved for rare times of boredom and of course, there is the inevitable travel reading where I’d pick several volumes for a long journey. And most recently, there is also TV reading where my idea of leisure time consists of watching the television while reading something. Yes, it really does work. What better way to watch Wimbledon, for example .. or the upcoming Ashes series except with a good book in one’s hand ? And these demarcations lead to different choices of reading material, for obvious reasons. Can’t read through a weighty treatise on Napoleon’s campaign in Russia (to pick a book off my list at random) while watching TV, can you ? Well, maybe someone can, but I sure can’t.

And herein lies the rub. Most of these reading times and my appetite for books seems to preclude the good old fashioned paperbound or hardback tomes. Ever tried balancing a book in front of you when you’re eating ? Strong arms and a degree of coordination sufficient to flip pages without tipping plates over is something I simply do not possess. Or, the more limber among you may suggest, why not simply keep the book beside you ? Well, not all books are amenable to being laid flat and simply flip back into a closed position (OReilly, I’m looking at you). And then, there is the bigger danger of developing a permanent crick in one’s neck.

And even worse, there is the problem of transport. Books are… like heavy and stuff. Now, heavy is very much a relative term. Carry a puny tome from Robert Jordan across the room and no one feels it. Balance said Robert Jordan tome over your head while you’re stretched out reading in bed? Then your arms tell you a slightly different story. Who’da thunk it ? Lifting weights. Forget fixing ever larger blobs of metal to complicated wire and pulley attachments and tugging at them, forget those wistful sighs when the latest television infomercial tells you about home exercise machines (which aren’t), just grab a dead tree copy of War and Peace and hold it aloft for a few hours (yes, a few hours. You’re simulating a person reading it, right ?). Arms beginning to ache yet ? They should. That should be the new slogan. Read books. It makes your biceps bulge… or at least ache in a satisfactorily “I’ve expended lots of calories and I’m supposed to feel good about that” sort of way. I’m not even going to mention certain wastrel publishers who insist on jamming every API reference in creation as appendices to their oversized books. Read a book by one of those publishers without visible means of support and you’re liable to need a chiropactor. Or have to wince over strained muscles. Or worse, which I will leave to the imagination. Oh, wait. I mentioned those publishers, didn’t I? My bad.

So the solution, obviously is to spare the trees, spare the muscles and motor merrily into the 21st century, as it were. Yes, e-books. The book, but in electronic form. So let me just point to Project Gutenberg, textfiles, any bookreader of your choice, possibly Weasel Reader on a Palm PDA… and have at it. And err. rumour has it that somewhat more recent works are also available in various seedy corners of the internet. Try it. It isn’t the same as having a proper book and it has a distinct dependence on electricity and computers, but it’s easier to bookmark, easier to carry around, much much easier to archive and for added benefit, you can instantly search and produce dazzling quotes, display stunningly detailed recollections of events and generally have access to more books than a local library might have to offer. And investing in a piece of electronic gadgetry even ensures that one can read in bed, with the light off. Surrounded by complete darkness. Ah, the wonder that is a backlight on a PDA. People who see me whip out this piece of expensive gadgetry have a fond illusion that I am organized, obsessively jot down appointments, have various alarms reminding me of appointments and never forget addresses, telephone numbers or birthdays. They have no idea that this here PDA isn’t for remembering fiddly little details about them, but more for making sure I have something to read when their fiddly little details are being explained in a meeting.

Because peering intently at a PDA during long meetings or during boring presentations seems businesslike, you see. It somehow conveys an aura of organization, even though the owner may be playing a frenzied game of Bejewelled or .. more pertinently in this case.. be reading about Lestat and Akasha. Not that people in meetings remind me of vampires or anything.