Admittedly, writing a blog again after an absence of four? five? years feels odd. Like looking through a high-school yearbook, or running into an old boyfriend at the mall. You feel a certain nostalgia, but you aren’t quite sure what it all means.
I will start by re-dedicating this blog to all stuff literary.
Currently I’m in a quasi-regular book (we meet when the club’s organizer is in town); books for December are Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (left over from the November meeting, which I did not attend and where, I’ve heard, those who did attend made it only half-way through the novel) and The Round House by Louise Erdrich. Those two novels will be good places to start discussion here, I suppose.
Also, I’m working on my own writing, fiction and essays. Not sure what I’ll report as I go along. I don’t really like to write about writing, except for the regular exhortations to write included in my personal journals. I think writing is one of those things that speaks for itself, and the best course to take is to, well, write.
I miss the old, active literary blog community of yore. I’m sure there are Tumblrs tumbling and such, and I suppose there will be cross-posts on Twitter. The whole social media landscape irritates me. It’s like having strip centers popping up on every corner of your home town. More crap than convenience, ugly, and unnecessary. And just causes a lot of traffic jams.