I cannot say it was a good month for me personally — but it was a pretty good one for books.
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Rereading is a fundamentally different act from the initial reading. By returning to a text with a memory of it, you can discover parts of it that you failed to see on initial — or second, or third — readings. I hesitate to suggest that you “decode” texts when you read them, or something to that effect, but it is my belief that the act of reading is a collaboration between the reader and text, and so the results will be fundamentally different if you are fundamentally different. You can never really “read the same book again” because much like Heraclitus’s river-crosser, you’re not the same person.
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In the immortal words of a Tweet that lives rent-free in my brain, “Ah, September. The first of the final four months. The big boys,” et cetera.
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Oh, god, I let this go too long. I’ve been watering trees for a local nonprofit all summer, so I’ve been holed up in a very slow, very wet truck listening to audiobooks for most of the time since we got back to the states. I even managed to read some physical books in the meantime.
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We did some travelling in the latter half of May, and on our return, I started in a new position at work, and these elements conspired to make May and, to a lesser extent, June, rather slimmer pickings on the reading front than usual.
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