My type of book

This is a photo from Guyana.  I'm sure you're jumping wildly about with excitement thinking, "Hot dog!  She's going to tell a story from that trip she took where she didn't tell us any stories?  She's finally thought of one?  And she's going to share it and show us that she loves her blog readers just as much/more than she loves her facebook friends, even though she usually dislikes facebook and loves Google, thereby we infer that she should love her (Google-powered) blog readers extra-much and eschew her facebook friends?  This is that time?"

Uh, no.  You should probably stop over-thinking things.  I still don't have Guyana stories.  And why would you use the expression "hot dog"?  That seems a little outdated.  Not like I'm judging you, I'm just pointing that out.

Now that it's established that this story doesn't actually relate to Guyana (except to say: this picture was taken in Guyana), allow me to continue.

This is a photograph of my brother and I, reading.  Is this unusual?  Indeed, it is not.  We tend to read all the time.  Stop light?  Time to read!  Family gathering gone long?  Book!  Airport?  Bound and printed is how I like my material, thanks.

So anyhow, we read.  The whole family, really.  My younger sister has a love/hate relationship with reading (I know, WHAT?  I just stop at the love/ and pretend that the slash is part of the word.  Oh me?  I have a loveslash relationship with reading.  You?) but recently I got her hooked on The Mysterious Benedict Society books, and she's nearly done with the four books (three plus the prequel) and she only started the series on Friday.  It makes me so proud.

Anyhow, the book she was reading in Guyana was some book published by Reader's Digest a while ago about the human body.  Seemed like a book I'd probably not rather read, though my brother and I both read books of my choosing while in Guyana, and they weren't exactly a laugh a minute.  I thought her book seemed sort of boring, she thought my books were boring.  Figure that.  You can't really see in the photo (see?  the picture actually has a purpose) but we're both reading books that you may not have perused yet.  Mine is called Just My Type, and his is called The Elegant Universe.

I have to go on record as saying that Just My Type was a quicker read than The Elegant Universe.  Just My Type was a book about fonts, and it was very well written.  The author went through the history of fonts ever since Gutenberg made them popular, and it even has a section on the interrobang.  My favorite ever.  The Elegant Universe is about the string theory, which I find quite interesting, however... it gets a little long.

Confession time.  I'm still not finished reading The Elegant Universe.  I got it out from the library around Easter time, but didn't have time to read it, so I returned it and got it out again before Guyana.  Seeing as my brother didn't think to bring a book (WHAT?) on the trip, I lent him mine, and I read my other book--the font book--and he read the string theory one.  He didn't finish it either.  But I still intend to finish it.  It really is a good book.  Honestly.  I actually laughed out loud in one part.

I'm such a nerd.

But anyhow, that's sort of my whole point in this story.  I sometimes weird myself out.  Here's the thing:  I (sadly) fall prey to reading Karen Kingsbury/Beverly Lewis/pick a Christian author and I've probably read a book by him/her thing.  But I've been trying to read more informative books and less pointlessness recently.  Not that I think there's something wrong with Christian fiction (I'm... not one of those people.  I understand that Philippians 4:8 says "whatsoever things are true," but I still read fiction, even in light of that), but sometimes I take stock of my life and think, "Hm.  I don't have a lot of education, but I do read.  So I should educate myself via words.  That much I can do."  So I read things like The Elegant Universe.

But I don't always like reading books like The Elegant Universe.  I get halfway through and think, "Brian.  Oh, Brian.  WHY ARE YOU ONLY NOW GETTING TO THE PART ABOUT STRING THEORY!?"  (May I just interject that this would be a perfect place for an interrobang?  Do you see why I miss it so much?  Seriously, I cannot believe that it didn't take!  It sorrows me!)  Because seriously, the author (Brian, in case you somehow missed that, and thought I fondly gave the actual book a name) spends the whole first half of the book discussing either the theory of general relativity or quantum mechanics.  I understand why he had to lay so much groundwork, but after a while it got to the point where I just wished he'd, well, get to the point.  So anyhow, when I'm halfway through such books, and furrowing my brow and making solemn promises to myself that no child of mine will ever have the name Brian I think what am I doing?

And then I get all guilty.  Am I reading nerdy books because I actually am tired of Karen Kingsbury and cohorts?  Or do I just like to read smart books because it's a nifty conversation starter?  Or do I just really like to learn things?  Am I being pretentious?  Does Brian Greene really have to go into so much detail?

Sorry.  That last question clearly isn't in relation to most books.

I just have to evaluate my motives every once in a while.  I've pretty much decided that I actually want to read the books, and I'm not just being pretentious.  Because I've tried having conversations about nerdy things, and it never works, and then I just feel awkward.  Actually, I take that back.  I have a cousin who actually understands the string theory.  I was talking to him about it, and I was like, "Sweet!  Give me the condensed version!  It'll save me from finishing the book I started!"  And... as it turns out, he doesn't have a condensed version.  It was rather lengthy, and just as we got to the actual string theory part (which is to say, he laid the groundwork, the part I've actually gotten through in the book I'm reading)... our conversation got cut off.

And he lives many hours away from me.

So now I have to finish my book.

Ugh.

Thing is, technically I could just read the wikipedia article about it and call it a day.  But... I'm obsessive.  I can't not finish a book I've started.  Actually, I've actually been able to not finish books in recent years, which I count as being a very grown-up thing to do, but it sort of hurts me.  And at this point I think I'll probably go crazy if I don't finish this book.  I've been working hard on it.

How did I start this topic?  Oh yes.  I saw the book on my dresser (conveniently under my stack of Bible, Kindle, and journal) and furrowed my eyebrows at it.  And figured that I would talk about it (a lot) in my blog, and maybe that would count as reading a few pages or something.

Doesn't usually work that way.  Sorrow.

In other news, I must disclaimer this message.  Thing is, these books are interesting.  I have learned a lot thus far in The Elegant Universe, and I learned a lot while reading Just My Type (the author is from England, so he talks a lot about the fonts they use on signs around London and stuff, and he would have photos of said signs in the book, and I would feel well-traveled because I'd seen those very signs.  Even though every person who's been to London or traveled even a few miles on the M1 has seen those signs, which technically makes it way less cool that I've seen them.  Though let's be honest.  It was cool that I'd seen those signs), but I must admit that neither author is a Christian.  The science book teaches evolution like it's a fact.  Scientists.  Pfft.  The font book casually references typographers traveling about with girlfriends.  Sinners.  Pfft.

Problems I didn't have with Karen Kingsbury, bless her heart.  (And I'm really not trying to pick on her.  She's just well known, thereby an easy reference point.)

Maybe the moral of the story is that I should finally buckle down and read Darby's synopsis.  My mother had read it by the time she was my age.  Virtuous woman.

Food for thought.

Suddenly I realize that I didn't have a point with this rather lengthy post.  So I'll make a point.

.

Haha, get it?  Periods are points.

I... need more sleep.