It's been going slow. It might be the Wolf Hall slowing me down although I rather suspect that it's French. Lately I've been trying to balance my oral and written French - since I only ever practice the latter.It seems to me one can't say to know a language
unless it's all even - writing, reading, listening comprehension and speaking. It took me some years to start speaking English - years in which I was producing A+ Eng Lit essays. I only learned to speak because I had to get a job (the job was at a bookstore so at least I had all the vocabulary I needed).
Why am I learning French? Because I like it. I am at a point in life when I can pretty much do whatever I want, limited only by the financial aspect. And some innate inabilities of course. I don't suppose I will ever take on skating or geographical research, for example. But I do like French and it doesn't seem so much out of my league - after all, I did learn languages in the past, I do have a lot of learning aids readily available and I can always find additional justification if I ever need it, since I do live in a bilingual country.
But all that French is taking up a lot of time - time some of which I would be spending reading. So no, it's not just Wolf Hall, which I am enjoying, especially that I'm also watching the 3rd season of The Tudors in French (in fact, I am watching it right this moment, with my left eye). It is a long book though. Long.
I'm also listening to the last installment of the Dexter Morgan story - Dexter Is Delicious. It's all that makes my daily commute bearable - subway may make one homicidal after all. I took from the library some books about the International Criminal Court but it seems my quest to get back to the level of expertise I had when I was writing my Master's thesis on the subject will have to wait. No time to get passionate about too many things. Well, I'm giving myself till the end of the year to be done with French and then I will have much more time for other educational enterprises.
What else am I doing? Oh, well, I'm still reading my biology textbook. Currently stuck at fungi. Since I never learned biology in English, along with re-memorization I have to do some translation. Unfortunately, none of my fragmentary biological knowledge from Poland ever auto-translated when I learned English. So it does feel like learning it all from scratch.
I've been reading Jane Eyre in French, although that was stopped lately by the unfortunate latest movie version. A very, very disappointing adaptation, which the general population somehow seems to like. Dumbfounding. I honestly don't even want to talk about it.
A book just started today is A Game of Thrones by George R.R. Martin. This reading is directly caused by the preview of the new HBO series based on the book - series which I will probably not see until it's out on DVD. After the first 50 pages I am moderately into it. It's another thick book - let's hope I stick with it. It's been too much abandoning books lately.
Well, I did read something impressive not so long ago. And I read it in a day. The new book by Camilla Gibb, The Beauty of Humanity Movement. This was the first book about Vietnam I ever read, and as much as I had no interest in the subject matter - I was just reading it to see what followed in the author's mind The Sweetness in the Belly, my favorite Gibb's novel - I do recognize the accomplishment. The book deals with modern day Vietnam, but because one of its main characters is an aged man, Gibb manages to squeeze in a lot of history. It's a story of an old man trying to relinquish his secrets in expectation of death and a young girl raised in the U.S. and coming to Vietnam to look for any traces of her father, an artist who disappeared after being sent to one of the reeducation camps. It turns out the man's secret and the girl's quest intertwine and in the process of discovery they both find new purpose, new life.
I did like the book, although upon completion I was a bit disappointed in the amount of time I got to spend with the story. It's not a long book but after all it was not a good idea to read it in one big gulp. I got used to the characters only for a short time - not enough to grow to really care about them - and I didn't manage to properly reflect on meanings and concepts. As a result, the book did not spawn a usual interest in/obsession with the subject matter. So I won't be reading anything else about Vietnam any time soon (like I did about Ethiopia after her previous book), even though Gibb still has my admiration.
With all the books I have on the go, I'm still somehow dissatisfied. I keep looking for a new volume to sink my teeth into. Some years ago it would be absolutely normal for me to have a big stack of books I was reading at any given time; now I'm uncomfortable if I ever get over 3. There's always the danger of abandonment (of the book by me or the other way around) if I put it away for too long. And the disappointment that follows - also in me and the book. I'm still torn in my choices between plot-driven page-turners and literary novels that will make me feel good about myself. Not to mention, some nice non-fiction positions that I have lined up but which are all very substantial so I can't read them now when I am only at 17 books for the year! I need to catch up, read some short books (=cheat) - maybe poetry?
Or maybe I should stop being so shallow and acknowledge for the first time since I started counting that numbers don't matter? Hm, don't know if I'm ready...
