Every Day In Every Way...

I have only a few addictions. One of them is acquiring books. I have a terrible habit of buying three books for every one book that I read. Knowing that I could not afford to build up a library here I have generally resisted the temptation to buy books and instead opted to expand my awareness of "classics". Our library at school hosts a large collection of Penguin Classics. Unlike other books at the library these ones are not for use by the students. We only have a few students capable of fully digesting Jane Austen and the only reason the copy of War and Peace is tattered is because the kids pull it off the shelf and marvel that something so big might actually be read by someone or brandish it as a weapon.
The last two novels I've read are by Henry James (The American and The Portrait of a Lady). I don't think I'll read any more James because the pattern thus far is that an American goes to Europe and gets screwed over by love. One has to wonder about his personal experience given that he was an American who moved to England and became a citizen. The editors of Penguin Classics like to point out that James met Flaubert and Eliot, as though this lends value. At any rate, James' character descriptions and so forth are good but reading The Portrait of a Lady, or at least finishing it, was only mildly rewarding.