Family Money by Nina Bawden

The third of the Viragos I read in a row over the past two weeks, this one didn't disappoint either. Since life got in the way, I was forced to put down the book multiple times towards the end, which may have affected it slightly for me. In between reading, I turned to my partner and asked incredulously, "How does this woman know so well the way people think, and how is she able to write it down with all the nuances?". I recognized a few of my more unworthy thoughts passing through Fanny's mind. I will be looking for more Nina Bawden and Molly Keane (the first in the trio of enjoyable Viragos). And what a lovely copy mine was (The cover in the image above - I picked it up from Blossoms in Bangalore, along with 40 other books).

The Tyranny of due dates

Image source: Here

Never thought I'd say this, but here goes. There can, indeed, be such a thing as too many books. Today, while dropping off my books at the American and British libraries before going home for two weeks (and rarely, for me, not heading to the shelves immediately to check out more books to lug home), I felt such a sense of peace, a calmness and relief, that there were not books at home that I HAD to read, so I could read the books I actually wanted to read (even if for a short period).

A life in books or What I am is what I am

Books are my life. I am that person. The one who sits up till 3 a.m., turning pages compulsively, sometimes crying at an epiphany a character had. The one whose eyes light up when she sees the words ‘book’ and ‘sale’ together. The one who will crane her neck and rotate around the pole on the metro, trying to see what book you’re reading. The kind of person who will just be glad that you read books (anything, even E.L. James) in this age of smartphones and WhatsApp. The one who takes out three library memberships and then cheerfully juggles her way through the tyranny of due dates. The one who promises the love of her life that she will not buy any more books for a couple of months (“Really now, where will we keep these?”) and then painfully ignores the twinge of guilt and goes crazy at a library clearance sale because she knows these books will not be available at these prices later. The one who goes for a walk around CP with its brands and sales and glitter and come back triumphantly to her room clutching a tattered copy of ‘Miss Marjoribanks’ for Rs. 120 (quite a bargain). For a long, long time I felt the need to apologize for being this person. Not anymore. I am very happy among my books, thank you.