Whither, indeed – for in 2016 I managed a grand total of 9 posts on this blog, which coincided, though was not wholly caused by, a large drop in books read (I couldn’t say exactly how many, since I’ve stopped keeping count); but recently I find myself undergoing a reversion, a relapse into literature, so I thought really I should get back to writing more posts. Yet the problem I think with the posts I’ve written of late is that they’ve taken too much the form of book reviews, and I’m not sure I’m any good at book reviews, and this dispirits me somewhat. So I was thinking I would write them instead in a rambling form of stream-of-consciousness, taking into account spurious matters such as my mood at the time, my predilections, how my thoughts provoked by the book evoked other books, all that sort of thing, and by so doing hoping to approach a closer approximation of my experience of reading. Well, we’ll see how that goes. My better posts, I’ve always felt, have been my more unorthodox.
And since I’m just going to ramble, I thought I might impose another kind of order on my posts, and publish them specifically every Sunday and Wednesday (although I can’t as yet contemplate producing 104 posts in a year).
What am I going to read? – As usual, anything that happens to take my desultory interest. But we’ll start off with some of the German literature left over from last year. In fact, we’ll start off with Ferdinand Gregorovius.