I needed a book to read. It was late, but I grabbed the first book I saw on my bookshelf: David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest
(no wonder it was the first I saw, heh).
Maybe it was because it was late, and because I haven't had more than 15 minutes at once to read it since I started, but it hasn't quite grabbed me back. So, the night before last, I rooted around on my "non-pretty bookshelf" (yep, I have "displayable" books and "non-pretty" ones) and found a svelte and used (in an old waitress kind of way, I think) copy of Fahrenheit 451
, which I bought years ago on the recommendation of my dad.
And while I read three pages before I fell asleep, I was already hooked. I didn't expect it to be so lyrical. So cabalistic. So post-apocalyptic, but set in an apocalypse-less world.