One of my unofficial new year's resolutions concerning my reading was that I wanted to post comments for at least two books a month. Not to have covered twelve by the year's end, but to establish a habit of at least two book commentaries a month. It's not asking much of myself and it's a very manageable goal.
I've yet to post a commentary this month despite having read a few books. I was thinking on why I comment on certain books why I don't on others. I am by no means an expert essayist when it comes to commentary, but I humor myself in thinking that when I do leave comments they are slightly more than, "I liked this book; The characters made me happy" and other such inane remarks that litter many review sites and amazon ratings. (Remember I claimed my arrogance up front.) For me to leave comments, a book needs to have made a substantial impression on me; good or bad. Actually some of what I think has been my 'best' commentary has been for books that left me feeling 'powerfully indifferent' if such a feeling exist.
Sometimes I'm lazy. Sometimes I'm just plain ole obstinate and don't do it, but for the most part I've got to feel something to go through with the act of commentary. I recently finished Summerland by The Amazing Michael Chabon. I don't feel I know enough about children's literature to offer my two-cents or at least that is my excuse I'm using for being underwhelmed by one of my favorite writers. "Meh..." rarely qualifies as a strong enough feeling for me to write about though if I had to I'm sure I could at length.
Apropos of nothing, I had a perfect Manhattan this weekend. Well, actually I had three. Rye is necessary--and not the smoothed out mellow 'new-aged-vodka' type rye--but the spicy, in your face, prohibition-era, SHAZAAM variety. That may be an eye opener for some however, it's the vermouth that is is key ingredient. The same could probably be said for a Martini, but why would anyone drink a Martini?