I surely didn’t see this coming, I’m blogging many days in a row. I was very hesitant when I decided to start this, afraid that I couldn’t be bothered to do this often enough and at first the words were a bit forced, a bit strained. Now they just come tumbling out and I don’t care if it’s about nothing at all. Me likes this verymuchindeed, it’s all about me, me, me. I now understand why people undergoing therapy are advised to keep a diary, it’s great to be the main character.
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I read a great book in the lazy haze that was over the city yesterday, Don’t Let's Go to the Dogs Tonight: An African Childhood by Alexandra Fuller. It's now on the list over my favourite books on whites living in Africa. Also on the list is Rules of the Wild by Francesca Marciano, a great novel which takes place mostly in Kenya and narrates the dilemmas whites living in Africa come across. Also on the list are the harsh and realistic Disgrace by J. M. Coetzee (Vansæmd in Icelandic), for a milder point of view I dreamed of Africa and African Nights by Kuki Gallmann, who has lived in Kenya since 1972. And of course Out of Africa by Karen Blixen (Jörð í Afríku). And there are lots more, if you're interested in the topic just send me an email.

A good book I read recently and takes place in South Africa, although the placement doesn't have much relevance in the story, is Entertaining Angels (Engillinn hennar Grétu) by Marita Van Der Vyver. I reallly liked the main character, and identified with her, she is however a bit older, a bit bitterer and a bit more cynical than I am. But she's a wild-eyed dreamer, which I can relate to, very well indeed.
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But this is how I read, like a thirsty person who gulps down a bottle of water without thinking it would be sensible to leave some until later I gobble books up. I swallow them in one bite, like the big bad wolf, then rub my belly and digest them. I often wish I were a slow reader, that I could make good books last for a long time, caress the pages with my eyes and let the story slowly seep in. No. I devour a good book in matter of hours.
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Now I'm reading Love in Time of Cholera by Gabriel García Márques. I don't know how I've overlooked that book in the past, or shunned it rather, I knew it was there. When at the library I always walked past it and thought 'nah, later'. Well, I'm glad now that I hadn't read it before. And today I stumbled across a second hand bookstore with books in English, to my delight. Am going there tomorrow, the best thing is that they'll buy my used books, so I can to stock up.