A Literary Obsession

Sometimes I just have to brag about my reading. Got me a big ego regarding that.

I finished Don Quixote this morning. The book was published in two parts - in 1605 and 1615. Over 400 years ago. That alone blows me away and lends an air of dignity and mystery to it. 

Miguel De Cervantes was the author. He was born in Spain. He was in debtor's prison when he began writing the book.

Many people consider it the "first modern novel" and the "best literary work ever written".

I don't care about that. It is a great story, a classic, and I enjoyed it tremendously. Don Quixote and Sancho Panza are such cool characters.

It was another labor of love for me - over 900 pages and well worth the effort.

When you decide to read a book like this you gotta do your homework because there are many translations. The book holds the distinction of being the second most translated book in the world after the Bible. Pretty decent company.

There are good translations and bad translations. I research all that until I come up with a consensus about which translation gets the most consistent praise. I picked a good one.

I love the language. I find old tymey language very satisfying. It can be flowery and grandiose but I think it communicates beautifully.

I love old tymey language so much that I just bought the complete collected works of William Shakespeare. Just got it this week.

Such a beautiful book. Leather bound with gold leaf pages and a ribbon inside for marking your pages. I was going on excitedly about it to Carol - I am like a little kid on Christmas morn when I buy a book like this. When I stopped rambling she asked "But don't the thees and thous bother you?"

I get it. This kind of stuff isn't for everybody, but it thrills me.

I am proud of the classics I read. When I finished reading Don Quixote this morning I reflected on all the time I have spent reading in my life.

It would be nice to tell you that all that reading made me brilliant and allowed me to conquer life and retire in great wealth.

Alas, that is not the case.

In A Christmas Carol, Scrooge's nephew Fred Holywell defends his love of Christmas to Scrooge this way: "There are many things from which I might have derived good, by which I have not profited, I dare say, Christmas among the rest. ..............................And therefore uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that it has done me good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it!"

That is how I feel about reading. It brings me enormous peace.

So I finished Don Quixote, and I have Shakespeare waiting in the wings (you should see the size of that book) along with about 10 other books I have stockpiled.

My future's so bright I gotta wear shades.