Christmas time is my traditional happy reading time. not that everything i read over christmas is necessarily happy, but i'm usually extremely happy doing it. so it was pretty depressing this christmas when i didn't actually get any good reading done. i usually shoot for at least one good thousand page novel, or a few shorter ones, new or old, and head (usually, but not this year) back to school, my entire life rocked by a new or revitalized relationship with a great book or two.
but it was a combination of things that kept me from getting that done this year--christmas parties, new years parties, lots a lots of work, a broken down car, and sheer indecision of what to read (something i am almost always plaugued by when i don't have a syllabus telling me exactly what to read, and a condition i have been hoping will be cured by being temporarily out of school).
so anyway, i haven't gotten anything good done yet this christmas, which is a real shame considering the quality of the works i've been trying to decide between (though in my defense i did start A Christmas Carol and a couple hundred pages of Bleak House (nothing says blustery cold winter like Dickens)). but all of this is to say that in the past couple days i finally started something i feel good about. you see, i got extremely sick new years day, apparently poisened by something i ate. and since i had off work, and couldn't go out, i reached for the first thousand page book within reach, and began Dostoyevsky's The Brothers Karamazov. it was a necessary step, because without my christmas reading i was really beginning to feal like my life was in disarray.
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