I have this really bad habit (okay, I'm not sure if "habit" is the correct word, but I can't come up with another at the moment): Every time we're heading somewhere on a trip, big or small, I pack up way more books than I could ever possibly read.
Inevitably, I get these grand illusions about how much reading I'm going to get done. Doesn't seem to matter how many times I prove myself wrong, how many times I tell myself that I really need to be more realistic...next trip rolls around and I'm packing up cartloads of books to haul with me. We headed to a family reunion this past week. Three days. Approximately eleven hours total traveling. So realistically, I should have brought along The Lightning Thief and the Fables volume I'm currently reading. Maybe a book of essays or short stories just in case my reading mood was off. And yes, even that is overkill... A.) Reading in the car often makes me carsick. B.) Rich and I often spend a lot of time talking on car trips. C.) If Rich has NPR on the radio, as opposed to music, I generally get too sucked into the stories to read. And yet, with all this knowledge residing in my head, I brought along seven books. And the saddest thing of all is that I somehow still had this inkling of hope that I could really read them all.
So what did I get read? I actually lost track of my page count, but it's somewhere around 150 pages. Yep, that's it. The Lightning Thief was the only book I even picked up. And I came nowhere close to even finishing it.
Lesson learned? Hell no.
And from the dangerous world of blog-reading, this book was added to my wish list:
*Juliet, Naked by Nick Hornby (thanks to Carl's incredibly insightful review). I likely would have gotten around to officially adding this book to my wish list eventually anyway...but Carl's review really made me want to go find it immediately.
*The Punishment of Gaza by Gideon Levy (thanks to a link to this review from Book Blips). Sounds like a painful, powerful read.