Dear Reader
I live in a house full of books I haven't read. This is partly because I share my life with a journalist, who used to review books for a living. But it's partly because my eyes are bigger than my literary stomach, and I'm forever acquiring tomes I don't have time to read.
And then there's the fact that for the last six months I've been unable to read - prevented by the nausea of pregnancy. Is it only me that finds it impossible to read when nauseous? Even when I'm not nauseous, if I'm in a situation which renders me vulnerable to nausea - like being a passenger in a car, or being in the first six months of pregnancy - I only have to scan a page or two to become suddenly emetic.
Well, anyway. I've finally escaped hyperemesis and all its atttendant woes, and in the last two weeks I've read two books! The first I've read since September '07! Woohoo!
One was a thriller called Basket Case, by Carl Hiaasen. This was because I was surfing the net trying to find out who else my German publisher - the Random House imprint called Manhattan - published, and Mr Hiaasen's name came up. And then I spotted one of his books on our shelves, probably cos my other 'alf reviewed it some time.
The other was Petite Anglaise, the book from the blog by Catherine Sanderson. I spent most of today recovering from a touristy week with my son in London by burying my nose in PA, engrossed and enjoying it thoroughly. Hopefully the next post on this very blog will be a proper review. Although I do have a habit of making promises like that and not getting round to keeping them...
___
And then there's the fact that for the last six months I've been unable to read - prevented by the nausea of pregnancy. Is it only me that finds it impossible to read when nauseous? Even when I'm not nauseous, if I'm in a situation which renders me vulnerable to nausea - like being a passenger in a car, or being in the first six months of pregnancy - I only have to scan a page or two to become suddenly emetic.
Well, anyway. I've finally escaped hyperemesis and all its atttendant woes, and in the last two weeks I've read two books! The first I've read since September '07! Woohoo!
One was a thriller called Basket Case, by Carl Hiaasen. This was because I was surfing the net trying to find out who else my German publisher - the Random House imprint called Manhattan - published, and Mr Hiaasen's name came up. And then I spotted one of his books on our shelves, probably cos my other 'alf reviewed it some time.
The other was Petite Anglaise, the book from the blog by Catherine Sanderson. I spent most of today recovering from a touristy week with my son in London by burying my nose in PA, engrossed and enjoying it thoroughly. Hopefully the next post on this very blog will be a proper review. Although I do have a habit of making promises like that and not getting round to keeping them...
___
Labels: Culture
2 Comments:
Oooh Clare, that sounds really horrible. Too dreadful to contemplate. Nothing makes me sick (too much alcohol and migraines aside) but not being able to read, OMG, I am so glad you've conquered it.
It's not as bad as it sounds, cos even the idea of reading makes me sick when I feel like that, so I don't pine after it. I just push it as far from my mind as poss.
I'm enjoying reading again now though, and need ever be that kind of ill again! Well, unless I get cancer or something...
Post a Comment
<< Home