I read, but the bulk of my 'library' is of reference works. Now, with 'retirement' upon me I am clearing my shelves of work-related publications that are no longer of use and mainly out-dated as well! I love the word 'catharsis'. It gives the short-lived illusion of a cleansing and a fresh start. But life is a continuum - it has a start and an end and between that there is simply re-arranging ... possibly deckchairs?
As I was going through one bookcase I came across a collection of old books that I may, or may not, have read. They were given to me for Christmas 1961 and reflect the curious education my mother was setting for me: Quo Vadis, by Henrik Sienkiewicz (definitely not read), Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, together with the Weir of Hermiston by RL Stevenson, White Fang by Jack London and Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens. But where was Jane Austen? Where were the Brontës? But, I have kept them to read, or re-read, and so they stay.
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