You know something?
From now on I'm going to take pictures of all the books I borrow from the library, just so that I can have a reminder of what I've read, and what I haven't.
And then, I'm going to take it a step further by writing about what I've read, just so it will double up as a record of what the book was about and more importantly, when it was that I read it.
It's an important step. Otherwise, I'll find myself in the same situation as I am now- not realizing (until I checked this blog) that I'd actually loaned and read the very same book barely six months ago- with no other borrowed book in between. ^_^
That being said, the book in question is The Diary of Anne Frank, and that is one which I can read again, again, and again. :)
Loved ones tell me that I'm a little obsessed about Anne Frank and her Diary, and I wouldn't deny it, oh no, but the odd thing is that if you were to ask me what it is that fascinates me so much, frankly, I can't pinpoint it either!
I just know that it is very difficult for me to not take her Diary whenever I see it on the library shelf. It doesn't matter that I'm already holding three other books in my hand, or that I think I might not have time to finish reading it. I don't care. Borrow first, later then say. :D
This time, I read A Quiet Place first.
It intrigued me partially because it was a Japanese detective story- which style I'd never read before- and because it's so hard to find translated works of Japanese authors in our libraries. One must know where to find. I was curious to know how Japanese detective fiction was like.
Let's just say that, unlike the speed of the Americans or the British, A Quiet Place was a slow, steady narrative that looked at things through the eyes of the first-person- the widower- and which tailed closely behind him thereafter. It was a story that delved deep into character and made me feel the loneliness, shock and confusion of the widower.
You know, it's funny, but whilst trying to figure out the secret escapades of a supposedly docile, haiku-loving, sexually disinterested wife, I also picked up information about prefectures, manufacturing processes of canned meats during late 70s Japan, and the presence of business entertainment.
I read Clive Cussler next.
Which, embarrassingly, I don't remember the title of the book (horrors!), but I think it starts with Kurt Austin (or is it Dirk?) impersonating a hardcore prisoner to sneak his way into some gulag to get out a former Russian military general who got into the bad books of the present-day defence minister, and then after that there's something about Tesla, and an secret experiment about disappearing ships from America reappearing right smack in the middle of the Aral Sea.
And finally, The Diary.
Starting from the last entry of August 1944 and working my way backwards through time. Except that I only got to make it as far back as late 1943 before my six weeks was up and the book had to go back to the borrowing bin. -_-