Despite what I may have said in the past, I’m helplessly addicted to my Kindle. My parents gave it to me for my birthday, and I have barely set it down since then.
It’s completely revolutionized my commute. It doesn’t take me that long to get to work – it’s only about a 20-minute journey, assuming that my train is waiting for me on the platform (which it rarely is, and, when it is, it usually means it will continue sitting there for another 5 minutes, waiting for ambiguous “signals ahead”) – but I usually have to stand in the mornings, and I seem to always have someone’s purse jabbing into my kidney or some heavily perfumed person standing in far too close proximity to my face. I would arrive at work feeling crabby (or, as my friend would say, with my threat level going through the roof), which is never a good start to the day.
Now, though, I can read on the way to and from work. I feel completely removed from the sardine-like scene on the train. Honestly, I’m surprised I’ve never missed my stop.
I’ve been on quite a reading tear. I’ve made my way through The Help, The Paris Wife, The Sun Also Rises, Then Came You, The Corrections, and Use Me, and I’m about a third of the way through The Marriage Plot. (Although I’m reserving judgment on The Marriage Plot, thus far I’m enjoying it. I was anxious to read it because its author, Jeffery Eugenides, wrote The Virgin Suicides, which is one of my favorite books, and Middlesex, which is one of my least favorite books.) At some point, I’ll update my Goodreads and post the results here … but for now, I’m too busy reading.