The Book Attack

I had entered the library with all the determination that I am not picking any book by any author who won a nobel/booker/pullitzer/whatever. I am targeting chick lit. The Bridget Jonesy kinds , the re-hash of pride and prejudice. The last time I read one the same bad taste in your mouth , like you picked up something that everyone else seems to enjoy and you cant understand why. What is wrong with me??? Oops, a very big , universe-encompassing question.

So anyway, here I am in the library looking for what I am supposed to be looking , trying to remember who wrote “Devil Wears Prada” and then i see the book catalogue Kiosk. And what do i type? Dasgupta , i am looking for Rana Dasgupta. Good they dont have it, now move on. I start my walk along the bookshelves, my gaze stops at Jennifer Elkridge something, my hand pops out, picks it, (sigh) , Bingo ! , Nobel Prize Winner. Nope, PUT IT BACK! I look down , noooo not Milan Kundera, I loved him in The Joke that I finished a week back. I tear my eyes away. Hari Kunzru ; I have always wondered what he is about, maybe I will find out today, NO, NO. Doris Lessing. Argh! Help! Whats going on? The conspiracy , THE conspiracy. How do these books find me, now that I think of it even my roomie has been making sure that my supply of heavy reading stuff is maintained.

I came victorious in the end. Armed with “Pillow Talk” , (Title in nice flowing pink and the water colour and ink drawing of a of a lady with big eyes and eyelashes) and TinTin. I did it. I have been a member of this library for close to a year and now I come victorious. Lets just see how palatable I find em. How lasting the content? ??? Wrong expectations? Why cant a fun book be lasting as well, a work of art too. Why is a work of art always leaning to the morose?