How could reading morph from something intrinsically habitual to - a tedious chore?
While I stew on that sad thought, I will just mention these books (they come in threes) that arrived this week, and which I am, in a wistful way, excited to read.
A long time ago, I was on a magnificent Jules Verne streak, and one of the best stories was The Lighthouse at the End of the World. I've been longing to get back into Verne, re-read my favorites and explore the umpteen other books he wrote...this one is a good place to start.
Kierkegaard's discourse on the "modern" world comes highly rated. From even the little I've read of and about him, I sense I'll relate strongly to some of his ideas and disagree strongly with others. A short book is a small commitment (!) and hopefully a tidy introduction.
Finally, somehow I wandered across a memoir by Jacques Cousteau, whose underwater films were a vague but memorable part of my childhood. I had no idea this existed; I'm big on nautical literature, exploration, and primary sources, so The Silent World looks really great.
(And to answer my question - this is just a phase.)