I love this time of the year, not because I’m a big fan of Christmas, but because this is typically when I get to spend the most time reading. I mostly read fiction, which is easier to read in short bursts when I’m on the metro or while I wait for my dinner to cook. Fiction is also the only thing I can handle in the few minutes I set aside for reading in bed every night, when I fight sleep and reread the same paragraph 20 times before I decide to turn the light off.
But a holiday is a holiday and when it’s cold outside and the days are short, I have all the excuses I need to stay indoors and dig in all kinds of books, not just fiction. The sun gently shines in through B’s huge living room window, the numerous presents he gave me are still sitting under our majestic tree, the heat is on, my new cds are playing (Frida’s soundtrack, Marc D�ry, Johnny Cash), there’s a drink for me on the coffee table and an ambitious pile of books waiting for my holiday attention. This pile includes:
• Dream Catcher, a memoir, by Margaret A. Salinger, daughter of J.D. Salinger.
• Edward Hopper, a Taschen art book by Ivo Kranzfelder.
• Sydney, a Lonely Planet Guide, a present form B. to prepare for our possible trip to Australia next Spring.
• The Salon.com Reader’s Guide to Contemporary Authors.
• Les Soupes, plus de 200 recettes venues du monde entier. B. gave me this French cookbook for Christmas, and in another one of our weird synchronicity moments, I also gave him a soup cookbook.
• The Conversations, the art of editing films, by Michael Ondaatje.
• Paris l’instant, by Philippe Delerm, photographs by Martine Delerm.
• L’angle mort, by Jean-Fran�ois Chassay.
• La maison �trang�re, by �lise Turcotte. I need to read more in French and Turcotte is one of my favorite Qu�b�cois writers.
I have started 4 or these books already and I switch between them according to my moods and my other plans for the day. I have no idea how many of these I will be able to finish by the end of the holiday, but just looking at this gorgeous pile of books makes me feel happy, especially when this act of contemplation is combined with the sounds and smells coming from the kitchen as B. is preparing yet another delicious meal.
