I don’t read like most people do—with their eyes. Because of my crazy schedule, I listen to books on audio CD, while driving to and from work, drama rehearsals, Tae Kwon Do classes, and no. 2 son’s job at a local museum. One problem, though. Our library system has most audio books on cassette tape, and of those they do have on CD, many don’t interest me. For instance, they do not carry The Pickwick Papers, but they do have A lova’ like no otha’.
So, I spent a good part of Sunday afternoon searching for something I could listen to after I’ve finished Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises (one CD to go). Did they have Karen Armstrong’s The Spiral Staircase? No. Galileo's Daughter by Sobel? Nope. Virgil’s The Aeneid? Not on your Latin dictionary.
They did have some Shakespeare plays I haven’t read or seen yet—The Winter’s Tale, The Comedy of Errors, Troilus and Cressida. And they had Hemingway’s story, The Snows of Kilimanjaro. The latter is especially tempting. But, I have a hunger for nonfiction. The last few books I’ve read have been fiction. And sort of like when I eat something sweet and then want something salty—my book palate is craving something that doesn’t require too much “suspending of disbelief.”
It’ll take longer, but I may try an interlibrary loan. Either that or maybe stand outside Barnes and Noble holding a “Will Work For Book On CD” sign.