Reading for a change..

While life drags on with its usual candor, so do I, refusing to relent to anything that might want to upset my otherwise well-oiled state of mere existence.
Yesterday was the off from work day. And it was put to good use. Bought three books one for my aunt and two of myself -- my monthly dose of Marquez and John Steinbeck's pulitzer-tag novel The Grapes of Wrath
Have been reading a lot lately, courtesy: a 23-year-old kid, who is cute as hell!
While, I have discovered I like Naipaul, I have also found out that along with Harold Robbins and Ayn Rand..I do not appreciate Rushdie at all.
The first one -- Not my choice of filth
The second one -- Love her theories..wish I could say the same of her books.
The third one -- Why did PadmaLaxshmi marry him?

Now, sadly, Rushdie is not a bad writer and I will also accept the partial blame of not being receptive enough. But something about his narrative makes me give up mid-way. The tool of language is used divinely, but the spell does not last long, at least on me.
So thats that I guess..Rushdie will have to relegate himself to mere 'name-dropping' category conversations in my life. Sad na..I did like his Haroun and the sea of stories though....Sigh!

Anyways, books seem to be a soothing influence on my otherwise restless mind. And I intend to keep this phase going as long as I need it to.
End of chapter 1.