rhythm of reading and publishing

I just finished a collection of columns Nick Hornby wrote for the Believer over a ten year period. I am near the end of a collection of short pieces E.B. White wrote for The New Yorker over a span of fifty years. I enjoyed both books and am glad I read them - I would do it again if I had it to do over - but I wonder if I read them wrong. I don’t mean I misread them so much as I got the rhythm wrong. These pieces were never meant to be read together all in one go like other books. They were meant to be read with a break between them, and alongside other writing. They’re olives, they’re raw onion, they’re great with other things and they’re less suitable for being the sole substance of a main course. I should have read them one piece day, or maybe two, alongside other books.

 
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Kudos
 
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Kudos

Now read this

A big fuck you to books and the forces of inertia

You don’t wanna fuck with me. I’m a tough macho dude. I’ve been doing pushups and have greater tricep development than I’ve had before. I read T-Nation sometimes. I listen to aggressive music. I drink black coffee. I swear. As in I use... Continue →