I met a fellow reader last night! Eureka! When I asked her what good books she’s read lately, she answered with Red Clocks, which I read just last week and loved. I so appreciate moments of reading serendipity like that. She happens to also be a writer—more specifically, a poet. Her favorite poet (lately) is C.D. Wright, in case you were wondering. I mean, I obviously was. I looked up C.D. Wright and it turns out she’s won the Man Booker for one of her poetry collections. Later that evening, I saw a new Litsy connection post about some eerily prescient Allen Ginsburg poems. Naturally, I had to look up his work, too. Well, needless to say, I was tempted to buy some books of poetry. It isNational Poetry Month, after all. But, I didn’t buy any. I just added those beauties to my wishlist, with possibly overblown hopes that I’ll receive maybe one of them for my upcoming birthday.
Right, I do understand that merely adding things to my wishlist isn’t much of a display of strength when it comes to a total book-buying ban. But, but, um, well, baby steps?