So, here goes:
How many books do I own?
No idea really. Five hundred? A thousand? No clue whatsoever. Whenever we move, boxes of books make up a chunk bigger than everything else put together. Enough said.
My “to read” shelf currently has about thirty books.
Last book bought
Has to be MC’s State of Fear. No, that isn’t it – I bought a MAD in Trivandrum. No, that’s not it either – I bought a couple of Conan the Barbarians a couple of weeks ago. Yes, that’s it – those are the last books bought.
Last books read
MC’s State of Fear
Sir Vidia’s The Mystic Masseur
Bach’s JLS – for the nth time and found it not one bit childish or in the past, as I dreaded it would be.
Books that mean a lot to me
For some reason, books that have made me laugh have always been dearer to me than those that have made me think – coconut-head (or, as my mom used to sing, gently, trying to make me sleep, “Oh son I bore, one with a head shaped like the seed of a palm tree” – I swear it’s less unwieldy in Tamil)?
Douglas Adams’s Trilogy of Five
Jerome K Jerome’s Three Men in a Boat and Three Men on a Bummel
A childhood favourite I still re-read with relish – The Adventures of Captain Wrungel
The Sherlock Holmes stories and novels
Tolkien’s Hobbit, and then LOTR
The extreme pathos of Mulk Raj Anand’s Coolie, though I cannot ever explain why
R.K. Narayan, my absolute favourite being An Astrologer’s Day
Nikos Kazantzakis’s Zorba the Greek, which, funnily enough, I’m still reading, eight years after I started it!
Surely You’re Joking Mr. Feynman
The Saga of the Phantoms, Tarzan, The Adventures of Tintin, Asterix and Obelix
And having done that, here’s my bit of spreading the j.