Eight Percenter

Book nerd that I am, I have determined through strenuous though fun exertion of a mental nature, that I have re-read 8 percent of the books that have crossed my path and gained my attention. A fair number of these have been over the past five years. And a lot of those re-reads were books that I read as a youngling, in those crazy hazy days we call the Seventies. More often than not I only recall a few scenes, a few characters, a few plot points, so I’m re-reading to discover anew what it once was that captivated me. More often than not I am … not disappointed, that’s too strong a word, for I’ve enjoyed all these returns immensely. Perhaps as a seeker I am slightly let down, but only for a moment as I leap back on the path and pursue the prey once again. The prey being, primarily, and not to sound too stuffy, nirvana on the written page.

It could be worse, I suppose. Some men lash out during their mid-life crises with younger babes, faster cars, a return to hard-core partying. Me, I just go to a used book store with my Acquisitions List.