George Orwell once famously declared, “Four legs, good. Two legs, bad.” Unfortunately, I’ve got two–but plenty of four-legged friends.
Orwell is one of my favorite writers; I adore his work and could re-read any of it, any time. So as I went through the stacks of books in the shelf late last night in the hopes of pulling some inspiration (I always have three books going at once–fictions, non-fiction, and something I can’t bear the thought of not reading at that moment) to read, my eyes grazed over my stack of Orwell and I found myself pulling “The Road to Wigan Pier”, “Burmese Days”, and “Coming Up for Air”.
What’s more, right underneath, is one of the heaviest reads (save for Robert Tressell’s “Ragged Trousered Philanthropists–have you read it? I haven’t found anyone as yet whose tackled it or fancied my sincere interest they tackle it so I have someone to discuss it with) I’ve ever gandered– The Unabridged Diaries of Sylvia Plath. Her diaries might not be something you’d want to read but in the depths of winter; or that might really put you over the edge, actually. But for anyone whose really interested in writers, this is a must-read. She was such an honest, wonderful person, despite the depression and mania, and its quite insightful and soft.
But, I’m looking, from this stack, for a read. I’m leaning toward “Coming Up for Air”, but “Burmese Days” is a close contender.
What would you suggest?