Also the weather is-- not really autumnal, but that summer-gone-cool thing that's like a Disneyland version of autumn. Or maybe what I think of as ersatz autumn is actually the end of summer topos: cooler nights, drier days, baroque grey and white clouds gilded with sun. Sometimes September looks like that, mostly it doesn't. What it's *not* is anything I associate with July, even abnormally cool Julys. Which this is not either. No need to turn the furnace on at night, as one did sometimes back in the '60s.
But reading Kirin no Tsubasa on nights like that with my ward map of Tokyo open beside it takes me back, twenty years, to late summer of '93: cicadas singing, great cloudscapes seen from my newly purchased bicycle, and the wonder that was my first days in fandom.
What have you just finished reading?
The Glass God by Kate Griffin. Writers will do what they do do and there's no doing anything about it. Which said, I did enjoy it, so fair enough.
What are you reading now?
Soulless by Gail Carriger. If one must do vampires and werewolves, steampunk Victorian AU goes down well enough. But it's tickling my memory with another book that had werewolf clans in a semi-Victorian (was it?) northern countries (Scotland again?) setting, and all I remember was that women weren't allowed in to the clans except that some woman did show up and refused to leave.
Perennially, Kirin no Tsubasa (which the library says I've renewed twice and I say surely only once?) and Dancing With Life, which bogs down once he starts telling you what happens when you reach a certain point of meditation expertise that I never will. Useless to tell me the sense of serene detachment, spiritual peace, or profound euphoria one experiences is not satori. I'm still trying to get past the aching shoulders and slumping spine.
What will you read next?
Mh, may try finishing the above. May move on to the sequel to Soulless (or may not). May go back to Read All The Things! on the kitchen shelves.
Extra- What books have you acquired?
Hobbes' Leviathan from the front yard library today and The Harbrace Anthology of Poetry ditto.
The long days of summer, the long nights of winter, seem designed for sitting inside reading all the things I've never read. Thus the Hobbes (and Piers Plowman four years back.) I never do, and I'm not sure why. Adult attention deficit disorder, is what I think.