Listening to the Library
I commute to work now. I’m not in the car for very long, about 30 minutes or so. But for an hour a day I sit in my car and listen to things. Although it is hard to imagine, I do get my fill of knitting podcasts after a while and I wanted to do something useful with my time, other than add up a list of yarn and patterns I should go out and buy. So I re-started my subscription to Audible.com and have been downloading a book per month there. My parking lot is next to the public library, so when my Audible book comes to an end, I have been perusing the shelves in the library for inspiration.
In this fashion I have listened to Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, a lovely, sweeping, magical book by Susanna Clarke that filled my days with happiness for over a week. That sucker was loooong. A rather throwaway novel, The Railroad Detective by Edward Marston, followed that one. It provided a pleasant audible backdrop to my commute, without requiring too much active thinking. Whereas Clarke’s book had language and scope and cleverness, The Railroad Detective was pretty straightforward. Staying in Britain, I also listened to The Suspicions of Mr Whicher, a non-fiction work about a nineteenth-century child murder and the early years of Scotland Yard. It was so well written, I forgot it was non-fiction for long stretches!
The next listen jerked me violently out of the British Isles and into Panem. After putting The Hunger Games aside when I was supposed to read it and pleading squeamishness, I finally listened to it during my commute. It made me cry on the way to a meeting. Damn tears.