long classic books, and what 'modern' reading is like
after being spoilt with 'the woman in white', which was a delightful and long book, i was apparently craving another long classic. i knew this because that's all i could think about while trying to get through a dystopian novel (which i stopped reading a few chapters in).
the lizzie of the past may have pushed through, or put the classic books to the bottom of the books she wanted to read. the lizzie of now, fresh from a major life change, decided to jump right in.
so i am pleased to announce that i have found my next home: 'wives and daughters', by elizabeth gaskell. i am 6 chapters in and loving it.
i am happy with the way this is going. reading is a massive part of my life; it always has been. sometimes, i find myself focusing more on the idea of reading for longer than i'm sat down with a book. i blame "booktok" and social media for this. it's become about calling yourself a reader, and proving that with a disgusting show of overconsumption, questionable reading 'habits', and goodreads goals. i also have my pure self to put a little bit of the blame on- i'm ridiculously methodical on choosing the next book to read that i end up with a 10-book-long list, which i give myself a deadline to read by. i know.
but i am glad that i'm starting to move on. i'm coming to terms with the fact that my list of books to read doesn't need to be polished off by the end of the year. and that it's okay to read things that catch my eye in the moment. that i don't need to prove my love for reading to others, or let myself be swayed by the opinion of the masses.
i am now leaning in to what my books give me, and the connection that forms between the story and my soul. in other words? i'm reading